Rediscovery
by fair01will
Summary: Sequel to Acknowledgement. One day, we will all die. One day, we will all cease to exist. But that's one day. Hermione finds out that one day may come sooner than they've all expected but at the same time she has to deal with the greatest loss she has ever suffered. She has to remember though, that the darkest hour is just before the dawn. And sun will always come up... Part 2/3
1. A State of Shock

"How long has she stared out of that window?" Ron asked him quietly as he observed the pale girl sitting on a chair by the high, churchlike windows. She didn't move, and he was sure that she wasn't even blinking. However, he still could detect the gentle rise and fall of her chest, she was breathing.

"A few days, they wouldn't tell me what's wrong with her when she…" Harry croaked not being able to finish the sentence he started. His throat was hoarse and eyes red. They didn't talk about what had happened at the Ministry. Ron, he – he understood. Ron understood why Harry faked him being asleep and why he refused to take him along. He was even a little bit grateful for it because he didn't have to fight Merlin knows how many Deatheaters. On the other hand he could have helped. Sirius didn't have to fall under the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I would advise you, Potter, to go back to your dormitory before I decide that Gryffindor should be in negative numbers at the end of the year." A deep, hard voice startled them out of their wits. The dungeon bat master walked through the double doors that led to the Hogwarts Infirmary in his usual blasé yet disturbing manner, his black robes were swishing around his ankles.

The boys didn't have to be told twice that they were unwelcomed. Ever since the Battle of the Department of Mysteries it seemed as if something snapped inside their Potion Master which made them do exactly as he wished. It was creepy, the effect the change in him had on them. Even though Harry wanted to stay a little longer, he knew it was no use. Since Poppy was currently at St. Mungo's doing Merlin knows what, thus leaving Snape in charge of the Infirmary.

Harry tried talking to her, saying he was sorry, that he didn't know… but she didn't even acknowledge he was there. It was as if she wasn't there at all. And that made the hole in his heart even greater.

He regretted not listening to her. He was consumed by guilt and he couldn't get rid of that wretched feeling. And he needed her to tell him that everything was going to be all right.

But she didn't and probably never would. It made him realise maybe for the first time in his short life that it really was _not _going to be _all right…_ And he had to admit that Snape was right. Life was not fair. Life was not gentle. And it was never ever forgiving.

Dumbledore told him about the prophecy, even apologised for his behaviour this year. Harry would have scoffed at him if the happenings of that night weren't replaying right in front of his eyes over and over again.

He would have to be the one to kill Voldemort in the end. Only he could do it… Did it surprise him? Probably not. Harry – He was still in too much of a shock from losing his Godfather to think about the Prophecy.

The Headmaster asked for his memory of the night and Harry gave it to him. He knew that if Hermione had heard about this things would have gotten nasty. For some reason she didn't like their Headmaster as much as he did. Not right now, mind you, right now Harry didn't know what to think about the white bearded man.

But he liked him, and above all he respected him. But from the way Hermione talked about Dumbledore he could clearly see that there was something amiss, something for which she detested the old but powerful wizard.

Harry had hoped just for a little that giving the memory to his Headmaster would mean that he didn't have to think about it anymore. That it would somehow vanish from his mind.

"What do you need it for?" He had asked the Headmaster who had returned to his rightful post just moments ago. But the Headmaster did not give him answer to his question, only put his wand against Harry's temple and the memory flowed and got sucked into his knotted wand in a silvery, white-blue mist.

Much to his surprise, he still remembered it.

Umbridge had gone completely crazy, refusing to stay in an enclosed room for more than five minutes and her sudden claustrophobia caused the 'escape' of their torturer in pink. She ran out of the castle straight into the forest. And from then on, nobody had ever heard of her again. They all hoped that she would never resurface. Some showed their opinion of that woman very publicly, some of them joined in secretly. Of one thing they were all astonishingly certain. She would never be able to push through with her bigoted ideas again, they all thought naïvely.

Harry wanted to ask Hermione how she accomplished that Dolores Umbridge ended up completely mad. An incredible feat but alas, Hermione was still… too catatonic to tell him.

Harry didn't know what brought his best friend, his sister into such state.

He tried asking, he tried begging, but all they would tell him was "Miss Granger needs some time to rest". He began to doubt that even the most skilful matron he had ever seen knew what was wrong with her. No person just ceases to - to exist after a night of – well, what they had gone through. Or so he thought…

What Harry didn't know was that Hermione was in a state of shock. A normal occurrence in the muggle world but in the wizarding they knew next to nothing about it. It had been three days since the night at the Ministry. But for Hermione, time became just an ever-changing number meaning absolutely nothing.

When she arrived, somewhat calmed by Lupin, she was determined that she would not let this 'incident' cripple her. So with her head held high, she went to the Headmasters office even though she should have gone to the Infirmary instead.

Right after she entered his office he ushered her towards his table where she sat down on the plush seat he had conjured for her.

"Ah Miss Granger, lovely to see you" he said cheerfully. Hermione felt anything but and couldn't understand how the Headmaster could behave in such a way. 'He looks as if he had just eaten a pound of chocolate ice-cream…' Hermione thought. 'His eyes are twinkling!' she was enraged by the old man. 'How can he act like this when someone from the Order just died?' she asked herself, refusing to name that someone who had died that evening.

"Yes Headmaster, lovely indeed. You sent a note with Mr. Lupin that you required my assistance with something?" Hermione inquired politely but arrogantly.

"Yes, Yes… You see Miss Granger, from what I heard it seems that you managed to _somehow_ overpower two Deatheaters, is that true?" the Headmaster's eyes twinkled like mad behind his half-moon glasses.

"I think you got that wrong Headmaster" Hermione answered "It _did _happen so I have no idea why it would only _seem _like it happened. And I did _manage _to overpower two Deatheaters. As for how, tell me Headmaster, how does that concern you?" Hermione concluded while leaning back against soft back of the chair, her wand being rolled between her fingers.

Last time she was here she was being threatened by the Minister. Since then, she had to suffer through Umbridge's torture and… Not completing the thought she looked straight into those blue eyes. She had this commanding presence to her, which seemed so alien and yet so truly _her _at the same time.

If the Headmaster was perturbed by her behaviour he didn't show it in the slightest. "I need your memory of the night" he said as if he was casually talking about the weather.

Hermione raised her brow at that. "Could you say that again, _Headmaster_? I didn't quite catch that…"

"Well of course, my dear girl, I would need your memory of that night, the fight you had with the Lestrange brothers to be precise." Dumbledore said again, with a friendly smile on his face that should have persuaded her to give him her memory without any fuss. But well, Hermione wouldn't just hand out her memories like an advertisement leaflet. And she was no one's dear girl.

"I don't think so, Headmaster. You do not need to see the memory. However, if the Auror department is in the need of it, well, they can come and I'll give it to them." Hermione concluded, not willing to change her mind.

Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes calculating.

A year ago, she might have looked away, she might have succumbed to the power he was suddenly emitting and do as he told her to. But that would have happened a year ago.

Today, she was a very tired seventeen-year-old witch, powerful enough to destroy what he called his office with just one swish of her wand (not that she knew that yet) and she had singlehandedly killed two Deatheaters from Voldemort's inner circle. That gave her the willpower to stand her own. She wouldn't let them tell her what to do, let alone Albus Dumbledore.

"If it is all Headmaster, my leg is bleeding and I suppose Madam Pompfrey wouldn't appreciate it much if I bleed out in your office." She got up to leave and was already at the door when the Headmaster exclaimed dejectedly. "This is from the Department of Magical Reinforcement" with that he pointed at two heavy looking leather money pouches.

Walking back towards the table she grabbed the pouches. She was surprised how light they were 'Must be a feather-light charm' she thought as she skilfully bound the two pouches together by the strings that kept them closed.

"Thank you" she said and walked out of the Headmaster's office, not bothering with any polite farewell or wished of good night.

The wound on her leg was beginning to open up so she hurried along the corridors paying attention not to put much weight on her injured leg. She reached the Hospital Wing in no time. As soon as she entered the Infirmary, Madam Pompfrey rushed to her side and practically dragged her toward one of the beds.

"Oh Merlin, what did you lot get into!" Poppy lamented "But we'll get you fixed up in no time. You'll just have to stay here overnight. Your leg will be as good as new in the morning." The school matron spoke to herself rather than to Hermione who was patiently sitting on the iron cot with a soft mattress.

"Drink this, it will ease the pain" Madam Pompfrey handed her a vial of Pain Relieving potion coloured in its distinct light yellow hue.

Gulping it down quickly, Hermione lay down, not caring about her attire. Snuggling into her cloak, which managed to get out of this ordeal in one peace she succumbed to the tiredness that wanted to consume her.

_His deranged cousin was standing twenty or so feet in front of him and was currently casting every curse and hex possible, only to be met with his strong shield. But he was becoming careless with it and had to duck so a jet of red light wouldn't hit him. He laughed at her. "Come on, you can do better than that" he yelled, wanting to provoke her. _

_However, the second jet of red light hit him square in the chest. A cackle, the distinct Bellatrix's cackle left a vibrating feeling in his ears._

_He was frozen, falling back, back not realising he would never hit the ground. The only thought before the never-ending darkness consumed and smothered him was 'Shadow, I…'._

_And then there was nothing. His magic dissolved in the strangeness and from everything became nothing. _

Hermione woke up with a start. For a moment, just a moment, she basked in the sweet oblivion that is the moment right after you wake up. For split of second she was unaware of where she was or why. Her vision was blurry, seeing nothing but light purplish light coming from the window behind her. But her vision cleared in a nanosecond, as did her memory. It felt like snapping your fingers to turn something on. Her memory was as clear as day. And just like that, so easily it hurt, she recalled the dream she just had.

Was it a dream? It didn't seem like it. It felt as if it was a snippet of his conscience binding itself to hers as a last attempt to keep on existing. But the pull of the Veil was too strong and even such a strong bond as the two of them had couldn't overcome the power of the Veil.

Hermione wasn't able to lie on her bed anymore. She had to move, she had to get rid of the rawness of the feeling. She experienced it herself just a minute ago, what it felt like to fall endlessly while your whole being concentrated on only one feeling. The feeling of being wrenched from the existence of the world. The feeling of utter desolateness. The feeling and surge of endless love.

Closing her eyes, she tried to squeeze the image of Bellatrix Lestrange's maniacal expression away. She tried to push back the face of the deranged woman's husband, his eyes that feared her. She tried to push it all back behind. But she wasn't able to do so. Image after image, it was replaying before her eyes over and over again. And it wasn't going to stop.

Stumbling to the side, she grabbed hold of a wooden chair that was positioned behind her bed and sat down. Her gaze was turned towards the school grounds and the rising sun.

If her mind wasn't so preoccupied with those horrifying images, she might have enjoyed looking at what was right before her eyes. Just a glimmer of bright orange peaked over the horizon, emerging from the mist coming off the mountains at each side of the Black Lake. The purplish hue of the light in such early hours changed to light pink and slowly, as the sun ascended upon the summer-day sky, the early morning clouds shined in orange and red tones.

It was a magnificent view. But Hermione saw none of that. Her mind was refusing to work. She succumbed to the state it threw her in. She didn't feel the pain caused by her sitting so long in one position. Red light and a terrifying cackle. That was all there was for her now. A state of shock.

'_Shadow, I…'_

* * *

**A/N: So here's the first official chapter of part two. It is an incredible feeling. I finished one part, and what's more I actually stuck to one thing for over five months which is almost unbelievable. But enough about me... What do you think about this development? How do you think the story will go on? I would love to hear your opinions!**

**Thanks for reading and don't forget to review! :-) **


	2. Poppy Pomfrey's Domain

"How is she?" was the first thing a very flustered Poppy Pomfrey inquired about after she gracefully stepped out of the fireplace in a wake of flashing poisonous green flames.

"What do you think?!" Snape snapped at her, irritated by her question. He was not irritated by the school matron per se. No, he was annoyed by the fact that she would think that Hermione Granger had miraculously get out of her comatose state in a matter of hours when she spent the better part of the last four days staring out of that blasted window.

"Do not snap at me Severus Snape! The other teachers may be afraid of you… and rightly so. However they are oblivious to many things which I'm not, so do not take that tone with me young man!" Pomfrey scolded him like schoolboy. He didn't respond, only curled his lips into his trademark sneer.

"So?" Poppy prompted. "So What?" Snape caught himself from snarling at her. "How is she?" the school matron asked worriedly, glancing at the small figure sitting by the window. The girl was sitting in the exact same position for the last three days.

After the first day, she forcibly put Hermione on her bed and made her drink some of the Dreamless potion. But when she went to check on her during the night, the girl was sitting by the window like before and Poppy didn't attempt to put her to sleep again.

That's when she pulled Severus Snape into all of this mess. Their potion master was suspiciously quite the day after the group of four made their trip to the Department of Mysteries and she couldn't help but wonder why. When she floo-called him and he ignored her summon, she went down to the dungeons to see what was going on with him.

She was probably the only one of the whole Hogwarts personnel who wasn't afraid of their resident Potion Master. Having seen that boy covered in scars either from his father or from his Master Lord Voldemort did that to a person. Even through his sixth and seventh year when he fully immersed himself in the practising of the Dark Arts she still cared for him. That was the most brilliant thing about Poppy Pomfrey, even though someone seldom realised it.

She was there to care for her charges, she wasn't there to judge their life choices. Though she really liked to know things and made it her goal to _know about _what was going on. She didn't ask and she didn't disagree with whatever grotesque story her charges produced as a reason for their injuries. However she did observe, and very well at that.

True, she pestered them all when they spent time in her Hospital Wing but there wasn't anyone better than their Poppy and all of the students agreed on that. Severus Snape wasn't an exception. Though he would rather die than to admit that he had a soft spot for her as much as she did for him. She didn't pity and she didn't speculate. Unlike the meddlesome Hogwarts Headmaster.

However the opinion on their Hogwarts matron had nothing to do with current mood of one Severus Snape. He wasn't ignoring her on purpose. What kept him from answering her floo-call was his mind. He would have started to drink if he didn't abhor that stuff so much. Firewhiskey, a wicked potion of its own kind... No he was not getting drunk by the means of that honey-coloured liquid. He was thinking. He was trying to rationalise his feelings. And he did not do that. Ever.

Silly, wasn't it? Claiming that he was an emotionless monster who cared only about his potions when the opposite was the truth. If he cared only and solely about his potions he wouldn't have become a Death Eater, let alone a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

He wouldn't have loved Lily Potter née Evans. He wouldn't have hated Potter's guts for fawning over the red-headed girl. He wouldn't have been afraid of Remus Lupin, he wouldn't have been paranoidly awaiting the moment the werewolf would attack him. And he certainly wouldn't be mulling over the fact that was Miss Hermione Granger losing her bond.

He couldn't help but feel guilty for Sirius's death and it annoyed and terrified the hell out of him. He had been too slow, he should have caught them before they managed to get to the Ministry by the floo network. He could have prevented Sirius from coming there to save them. He shouldn't have been so careless in informing the Order about the suicide mission the four teens were undertaking at that time. It was all what-if's and Severus Snape didn't want to wonder about the what-if's anymore.

He would take Lily's advice and he would stop pondering and wondering about what could have been. He would most certainly go crazy if he didn't.

Just as he decided on disciplining his mind and on concentrating on the now, a very agitated Poppy Pomfrey appeared in his private chambers. Since the woman was taking care of him after his many summons, he had altered the wards to let her in without him allowing it. And right now he was beginning to regret ever making that decision. He wouldn't be the snarky potion master if he didn't.

"What brings you to the dungeons Poppy?" he asked her, too tired to sound at least a bit peeved by the disruption of his peaceful decision-making.

"I may need your help with one of my patients…" the older woman said with a worrisome expression marring her face. He often wondered how old the woman was. He didn't doubt that she had to thank her charges for the amount of wrinkles on her face. He too had to admit that treating injured students wasn't much of a rewarding job. If _he _had to care for the dunderheads, nobody would survive it. However he was not unprofessional and from time to time the school matron came to him for advice and he gave it to the best of his ability.

"What potion do you need this time?" Severus asked her, thinking he would rather go straight to the point, no questions asked. But Poppy surprised him when she answered in the negative. "I don't need any potions, not yet at least. I'm in a need of your assistance. It would be much better to explain if you actually saw what I am talking about…" with that she turned around and strode back to the Hospital Wing knowing that Severus would follow her soon.

She was not mistaken and just moments after she arrived to her office by the Hospital Wing the double door to the Infirmary opened and in strode Professor Snape, his robes billowing and all.

"Now when I'm here, would you care to enlighten me as to what is the problem you seem to have?" he asked her in a politely 'impolite' tone.

The Infirmary was empty. Just one of the beds had crumpled covers and a notepad attached to the iron railing. Beside the bed was a wooden chair and a girl sitting on it. Her back was turned towards them, her dark brown almost black hair was cascading down her back in soft but pronounced waves.

"Hermione came in with a terrible gash on her leg which I managed to heal and I made her stay overnight. However in the morning, I found her sitting by the window. For a whole day she didn't even budge. It didn't seem like she was going to sleep so I got some Dreamless Sleeping draught into her. She was out in a matter of seconds. But when I came to check on her during the night, she was by the window again. She won't respond to anything. Do you know what may be wrong with her, Severus?"

Severus didn't have to think long to guess what was wrong with the only Gryffindor he was able to stand as a teacher. Could he tell Pomfrey? Probably not. "Give it a few days. I would say it is a shock from her night escapades" he said but the matron didn't fail to notice the worry that laced his tone.

She knew that there must be something the Potion Master was refusing to tell her and she was all right with that under only one stipulation. That it wasn't of consequence to the betterment of her patient. "And if she does not?" she asked glancing once more at the motionless body of a girl.

"Three days and if she doesn't come to herself we'll find someone who can bring her out of it…" he muttered and walked away.

Those three days were one of the most stressful for their school matron. Not only did she had to force away one Harry Potter every day, many times a day the be precise, she also had to worry about the girl he came to visit all the time. Her condition would not change and when it did, it were the noticeable dark circles under her eyes and paler skin that she has ever seen on the smartest Gryffindor so far.

Three days have come and gone and it was time Severus came up with something that didn't consist of waiting. Fortunately for him, he did come and Poppy didn't have to chase him out of his private potion lab, which would have been rather ugly considering his obsession with his 'quiet' working environment.

"Any change?" he asked without paltering. Both of them had learnt to go straight to the point in each other's presence along time ago. "No, it's the same. Dumbledore was here but he said and I quote 'Leave the girl be Poppy, her mind must come to understanding with what she did.' What _did _she do Severus?" she asked him and the determination in her eyes made him tell her what he knew. Almost all that is.

"From what I know she killed two Deatheaters. But I don't think that's why she's refusing to communicate with the world. I need you to find the twins" Snape said matter of factly.

"The Weasley twins?" Poppy asked while looking at him incredulously. "Yes the Weasley twins. I need to teach but after that I can look after the Infirmary for you." He said begrudgingly. He knew that the twins would down right refuse to help _him. _But if Poppy came, they wouldn't be so reluctant.

"What shall I tell them?" she asked him, already agreeing to leave the Infirmary in his hands during the evening. "Tell them that they should think about what happened during the night three days ago and the implications of that for one girl" Poppy looked at him oddly when he said that but didn't argue. Hoping that the twins would know what was going on (which was a very curious assumption to begin with) she went to the Headmaster to make some arrangements.

"Just don't tell him where you're really. He might have some – remarks" He drawled when she was at the door, his face set in a sour expression. Despite what everybody thought, the Headmaster was not omniscient and sometimes it was too easy to fool him. Like right now...

That evening he was the one to chase Harry Potter and his side-kick Weasley away. Even though he abhorred the former, he wasn't oblivious to the fact that he was suffering very much. Who wouldn't? He had just lost his only father-like figure, one of his only connections to the family he never got to know…

Poppy didn't tell the Headmaster the truth. Instead, she claimed she needed to pay a visit to St. Mungo's. Because of what? Who cares…? So she went twins hunting and promptly decided that next time, it would be Severus's turn to look for them.

The flames swivelled and in stepped a flustered Poppy Pomfrey "How is she?" she inquired.

"What do you think?!" Snape snapped at her, irritated by her question.

"Do not snap at me Severus Snape! The other teachers may be afraid of you… and rightly so. However they are oblivious to many things which I'm not, so do not take that tone with me young man!" Pomfrey scolded him like schoolboy. He didn't respond, only curled his lips into his trademark sneer.

"So?" Poppy prompted. "So What?" Snape caught himself from snarling at her. "How is she?"

"No Poppy nothing changed in the matter of hours you couldn't observe her like a hawk. Will they come?" He asked her, changing the subject.

The school matron pursed her lips. "If you weren't so vague, they might have been here already. Instead I had to convey your – I don't even know what to call it. They said they'll think it over and come as soon as they close their shop. Accidently, they didn't it feel necessary to tell me when that would be."

She was angry, very angry indeed. She strode towards her office to hang her traveling cloak there, aggravation seeping through her every step. When she came back Snape was still standing there and she couldn't help but interrogate him.

"Just tell me Severus how you think those two trouble-makers could help this poor dear?" she waved her hand in the direction Hermione was sitting. She didn't even attempt to talk quieter.

Severus Snape was in two minds about telling the school matron about his reasons. He was well aware of the fact that Miss Granger liked her secrets and it wasn't that long ago that Umbridge decided to air the girl's dirty laundry. True, she took it with her head held high but some of the rumours were simply terrible even he had to admit that. If it were him he would have hexed half the student body.

So after a minute of pondering, he decided against telling her what this was all about. "They will know. You'd be surprised…" He caught himself before he started complimenting those two.

"Let them help her. I believe they're the only ones who are able to." And with that last perplexing statement he left the Infirmary.

It was ten o'clock in the evening when the twins stepped out of the floo in their fetching new robes. Their business was getting along well and they refused to spend the eternity in haggard and mismatched clothes.

"George?"

"Aye Fred?"

"Where do you think Pomfrey is?" Fred asked looking around the dark Infirmary.

"I'm right here Messrs Weasley" Poppy Pomfrey came out from behind them, scaring the wits out of the two mischief-makers.

"Oh dear Poppy, we missed you!" they both said at once. The school matron who had to deal with their many injuries caused by their experiments on either themselves or unsuspecting students couldn't very well say the same.

"I assure you, I did not" Poppy said with a serious expression. "And you did not come here to converse with me" she brought them back to reality and both of them sobered up pretty quickly.

They weren't sure how come they hadn't figured it out sooner. It wasn't that long time ago that Hermione came to them asking about their bond. But their heads were full of their joke inventions and money calculations that they somehow managed to forget about it. So when they heard from their mum that Sirius Black was dead, they immediately felt terribly sorry for Harry but blanked out the fact that Hermione Granger was also concerned.

When Poppy Pomfrey came to visit them this evening, they only got a vague message from her, and what's more, it came from the Potion Master Severus Snape himself. For a moment they had absolutely no idea what it was all about. But then it clicked and the both of them rushed to Hogwarts.

"Where is she?" they both asked at the same time. Immediately, the expression on Poppy's face turned sad and worried. "Right there" she pointed towards one of the beds that had was gently illuminated by the oil lamp. There they spotted the figure sitting by window, completely immersed in a world of her own.

"Fred, I think we should go to see the Headmaster…"

"Yes we should… Madam Pomfrey, could you somehow get her things here? She's coming with us after we've visited the Headmaster." And with that both of them were on their way to the see Dumbledore.

Oh how she hated when she was being pushed around and only received half the information. But after a moment of grumbling she called for a Hogwarts elf. "How can Flipsy help you this evening?"

"Flipsy, can you pack all the belongings of Miss Granger and bring them here?" Poppy asked the elf.

"Of course, Filpsy will be right back!" And with a pop the elf disappeared to do what was asked of it.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Now I know this chapter is rather short, but I have a lot on my plate right now so I'm very happy I managed to write this in such a short time. I feel I need to say a few things though. When I was on my way home, I realised that the things the people in my story had to go through had to change them somehow. And it dawned on me that the way J. (I have nothing against her per se, personally, I think she's a wonderful writer) the way that JKR portrayed the characters in the story didn't truly go well with what they had gone through. **

**So hopefully it won't surprise you that this story will be darker than the first part or the original canon. I won't have them going on rampages like some blood-thirsty vampires mind you... Both Harry and Hermione will explore their darker side but will become even more stronger because of it. **

**Now I've said my fair share and you can comment on this chapter :D hope you enjoyed it!**

**Please review!**


	3. In Your Head

_In your head, in your head they're still fighting,_  
_With their tanks and their bombs,_  
_And their bombs and their guns,_  
_In your head, in your head, they are dying..._

_\- The Cranberries_

* * *

The suspense in the air was beginning to be stifling. A chill would run down your spine if you thought about it too often. The war was coming. Coming and coming, and you couldn't do anything to stop it. Those who had been old enough to remember the last war knew the feeling very well.

Some of those people, McGonagall for example, have been around for much longer and remembered the time of Grindelvald and his march across Europe. She was but a girl back then but she could still recall the fear that crippled them all when the rumours of Grindelvald's return home to the Wizarding Britain hit them.

The most horrible thing about a war is that you know it is coming. Most of them hated that expression. The war is coming. It says nothing and yet, such a simple sentence is able to destroy the lives of many.

They, who were they? One would think that those wizards and witches were only those who were called blood-traitors, mudbloods and muggle-lovers by the other side – the dark side.

But no, surprisingly it wasn't so. It was the people on both side, either the dark or the light. They all thought the same thing. What does war accomplish?

Could you say that war accomplishes nothing? Of course you could… War leads to nothing but discontent and loss and even though the winning side may claim there's no one to oppose them, there always is and the amount of people who start to belong to the other side, the one that had lost the previous war grows and grows until another war begins and decimates the people yet again. And so right now, they were stuck in a vicious circle, some born on the light and some on the dark side.

What is the use of that?

Nothing is black and white, dark and light and neither is a war or the sides one could fight for. Did they realise it? Probably not…

The threat of a new war, a second one, much bloodier than the one before was looming. Already, one could easily succumb to the fear and flee, one could commit suicide so they wouldn't have to deal with what was to come. But there were those who stood against the terroriser of their precious world united and fearless.

Those weren't the people that were manipulative or those who fought on both sides so they could leave their options open so to say. No, those who stood united were those who had the most to lose or surprisingly, the least. Mothers and fathers fighting for a better world of their children, children of those who fell in the last war wanting to avenge their parents. Friends who would never be able to see each other again. Lovers, husbands and wives who had been cruelly separated by the abominable creature who called himself Lord Voldemort.

The war had taken everything from Minerva McGonagall. Her husband, her two sons, even her mother and father who were hidden away from the wizarding world.

Her mother had married a muggle thusly ceasing to do any kind of magic. Nevertheless she had never lost complete contact with her friends from Hogwarts and soon found out that in the village they lived in was another pair like them. She knew enough to fear the threat that was Grindelvald and the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort.

But even though they fled to the Scottish Highlands as their daughter Minerva told them, the Deatheaters were able to find them. Minerva McGonagall, as a very important and skilled Order member had to be rendered useless somehow and after Voldemort found out he was unable to kill the accomplished witch he decided to strike home. Literally.

Her parents were one of the first victims of the ever growing number of Deatheaters. Then they tracked down her husband and sons and killed them off one by one. What Voldemort did not expect was that Minerva would become even more ruthless and efficient when it would come to dealing with Deatheaters.

She was the only one that opposed to inducting Severus Snape into the second Order of the Phoenix. She said many times, rather vigorously at that, that this decision of Dumbledore's would come to bite them in the arse later. According to her, no one ever ceased to be a Deatheater.

Throughout Harry Potter's fifth year, she was trying to come up with a subtle way of dealing with Umbridge. Despite the effort she put into it, she was unable to think of something that wouldn't be too aggressive or that wouldn't later point to her. So when the news of a rather mad Dolores Umbridge screeching her head off in the Great Hall reached her, she couldn't help but wonder who did it.

It seemed that Umbridge got the preposterous idea that the walls all around her were trying to swallow her up and so she fled to the Forbidden Forrest. And because she entered there on her own delirious free will, no one did hurry to go find her out of sheer fear for the pink toad.

Whoever did it, it was clear to her that they had to be Slytherin. And for the first time in her life, she actually admitted that those snakes had more than sawdust filling their heads. She would have been very surprised if she knew that the alleged Slytherin was actually one of her cubs that she tried to protect so fiercely…

Then it all went south. It took four teenage wizards and witches traveling to the Department of Mysteries for the world to realise that what Dumbledore and Potter kept saying since the end of last school years wasn't just some wish-wash, but the actual truth.

Because she was one of the Order she was told part of the actual story. Part? Well, the Prophet was spouting some ridiculous claik about Harry Potter. And since when does Albus Dumbledore say the whole truth?

One thing that strengthened her beliefs that Dumbledore was leaving something out was the state of Hermione Granger in the Hospital Wing. Outwardly, the girl looked fine but she was anything but. She did wonder whether Albus knew what was wrong with the young woman. And yet, if he knew what was wrong with her, why didn't he do anything to help her? All he had said about it was 'Let the girl gather her thoughts'. Because of what? Why?

She desired very much to give him piece of her mind about it, nevertheless she held herself back as usual. She was a strong witch, true, but she didn't have it in her to start doubting Dumbledore now. If she did, it would never end. Many people said there wasn't anyone more Gryffindor-ish than Minerva McGonagall and they would probably be saying the truth. She was brave, she was strong willed and she had courage that of ten wizards combined. She never backed down.

However the hat had wanted to put her to Ravenclaw for good reasons. She was not ignorant and she was very good at guessing what was going on inside of Albus's head. That was the advantage one had when one had known someone for as long as Minerva did Albus Dumbledore. And despite all that she thought, she believed in the Order of Phoenix and she believed that they would win in the end. Because if she didn't have at least a speck of hope, she would succumb to a world full of regret and vengefulness. And that would lead her precisely nowhere

It had been four days since the Daily Prophet ergo the fool of a Minister admitted that Voldemort was alive and she was currently doing her rounds. It was already past curfew and she had yet to find a student that had strayed from their common room. That is until she heard the noise of rushing feet. Pursuing the culprits she hasted in her strict manner, the wide sleeves flowing angrily around her arms showing just what she thought of breaking the rules.

What she didn't expect to see when she turned around the corner into another corridor were two identical redheads. They looked like deer caught in the headlight.

If the twins thought that no one else would know about their trip apart from Poppy, Dumbledore and in extension also Snape they were sorely mistaken. And the figure of their former Head of House was a proof of that.

"Minnie!" one of them exclaimed in nervousness. It seemed that the Weasley twins had taken over where the Marauders had left off when it came to calling McGonagall and Pomfrey by their given names.

"That is Madam McGonagall for you Mr. Weasley! And what in Merlin's name are you two doing here?" she asked them sternly as her green eyes bore into them.

"Weeell…" the other twin started to say. The thing was, they kinda hadn't thought it all out. They have rushed to Hogwarts and intended on taking Hermione back with them no questions asked. As it turned out, it would be a much more difficult thing to do, with persuading McGonagall to let them go and all. And they still hadn't thought of a plan on how to persuade Dumbledore to let her come with them.

It was Fred who spoke after a while of silence not being able to handle the hard look the Transfiguration professor was giving them. What they had learnt in those six and a half years they had gone to Hogwarts was that when it came to Minerva McGonagall then honesty was the best policy.

"We've come to pick up Hermione. She's going home with us." He said with persuasion. "And on whose authority is that?" The Head of Gryffindor House asked in her harsh Scottish accent.

"Ours" the other twin, George, answered after a while. McGonagall pursed her lips, surely wanting to say that her most precious Gryffindor was not going anywhere with those two trouble-makers but Fred beat her to it.

"She has nowhere to go, you know that. And… and in the state she's in right now… We – we think that if she were to go somewhere else it might be good for her"

It seemed that Fred had hit home with what he had just said.

How did they know that she had nowhere to go? Well, Ron was rather eloquent when it came to his description of Hermione's deception. However after a proper Molly Weasley dressing down, he may have just seen reason. The twins knew that the relationship their mother had with Ron's pseudo-friend Hermione was less then affable but after she heard that the girl was an orphan their mother did a complete one-eighty.

Suddenly, Molly Weasley became her usual maternal self and this time, it included Hermione Granger. It dawned on them then, the reason why Hermione kept it all secret. Why wouldn't she, when the people around her acted like she had a decease that had to be cured as soon as possible?

The hypocrisy of that disgusted them. One order from their mother and a promise of a hearty cake or whatever later and Ron was doing _exactly_ as she told him to.

His musings were interrupted when McGonagall spoke again. They had expected that she would tell them it was impossible for them to for the lack of a better term kidnap Hermione or that she would accompany them to the Headmaster's office which would end with them being thrown out of the castle. Instead of all of the above, she smiled a small, almost imperceptible conspiratory smile. Ah the kitty had claws...

"There's no need to look so worried" she glanced at the nervous pair of boys in front of her. She might as well do something for the poor dear. Sometimes, Minerva joked that she knew more than the Headmaster did when it came to the things that were going on right under his nose. And in the case of her own House it was very true, very true indeed.

She was not totally oblivious to the fact that Hermione Granger had a rather too much of a natural affinity wtih magic. The girl was a true sorceress, she thought with glee and pride many times since the Gryffindor in questions entered Hogwarts for the first time.

It did not escape her knowledge that under the exterior of a shy and studious girl an evil genius dwelled hidden. From time to time, she walked the corridors and observed the school not in her human form, but in her Animagus form of a tabby cat. One time in Hermione's fourth year, just before the second task, she had been a silent observer to one of her 'meetings' with the successors of the mighty Marauders.

The girl had such brilliant ideas and the way she worked with magic making it feel like the morning dew when you walked barefoot on a freshly mowed lawn astonished her like nothing she had ever seen before. She had never seen anything like it in a fourth year and from the expressions on both of the twin's faces, she guessed it was nothing new when it came to the special witch that was Hermione Granger.

She was truly shocked when Umbridge informed them one evening that Miss Granger was an orphan. She had thought that it was all the usual prevarication that was being spread by the wretched High Inquisitor. Nevertheless her protest were silenced by the claim that this information came from Miss Granger herself. It worried and vexed her to an extent. She was sorry that the girl wouldn't come to her and she had to hear from the harpy of a woman. It was all made very hush-hush and they were told only the Headmaster knew.

With the High Inquisitor breathing down her neck, she was unable to do anything against the rumours that were being spread around about her mysterious descent. She was sure that Umbridge herself created some of them. Minerva was certain that there wasn't a line that Dolores Umbridge wouldn't dare to cross.

"What are you still standing here for?" she exclaimed all of a sudden. "In the wake of recent events Miss Granger can leave Hogwarts any time she wants. She already finisher her O.W.L.'s, there's no reason she should remain at the castle till the actual end of the school year" seeing the boys were staring at her open mouthed she added in her stern voice that seemed to shake them out of their shock. "Chop chop! I believe Miss Granger would like to sleep in a more comfortable bed that is the iron hospital cot tonight."

And with that, she turned around and continued her patrol. Just like that. "Whaa-" George started to say, still rooted to the spot. "I told you Georgie, she can't help but adore us!" Fred exclaimed, but paid attention to not being loud lest they be found out by another teacher and he really didn't want to go through that again. He still couldn't believe that the strictest teacher there was, Snape didn't count since he's just plain mean, helped them – them, the Weasley twins!

"C'mon" Fred whispered after a while of silly staring and grabbing the sleeve of his twin's robe rushed towards the Infirmary.

"Poppy?" George called out.

"Yes Mister Weasley?" the woman in question answered. She had an eerie habit of surprising them from behind.

"Hermione's been cleared to go with us" Fred said. It wasn't a complete lie, she was cleared to go with them, only not by the Headmaster. But Poppy Pomfrey didn't ask that, did she…

For a moment, the both of them wondered whether the tired school matron would need some kind of a proof but it seemed that she find nothing out of ordinary with what they had just told her. 'Would they never learn?' they both asked themselves.

"I tried to shake her out of it, but she's as unresponsive as ever. The floo is open till midnight, curtesy of Headmaster Dumbledore… Goodnight gentlemen" and with that she went back to her quarters, too tired to deal with the both of them any longer. She was certain that the boys would treat the young woman more than appropriately and therefore left them to their own devices. Right then, her bed looked very inviting…

"George?"

"Aye Fred?"

"Do you have any – erm – idea how to…?"

"None Freddie…"

Both of them pursed their lips as they looked at the master mind that was motionlessly sitting by the window. From what they knew Poppy failed in her attempts to wake her up, Dumbledore let her to think it through and Snape had hoped that they would be able to help her. And they most certainly wanted to snap her out of it before they flooed over to their apartment over their store.

**PGBR**

The time stood at standstill. Subconsciously, she knew that people were trying to talk to her, that they talked about her, that they looked at her. But she didn't seem to percept it. Was she going crazy? No, not really. She just – she just didn't pay any attention to what was going on.

What was the use anyway? She just lost someone she was literally not able to live without and it hurt. It hurt to think about it, to even consider the possibility that it was all true, that he was indeed… dead. And even though she saw it happening right in front of her eyes day and night, it became more like a dream, a nightmare, than a reality. She didn't want to see the flashes of red anymore. She wanted to – she wanted to escape her own mind but it had already ensnared her and wasn't letting go.

"Shadowpaw…" she heard from afar. Only one person had ever known that nickname and only one person had ever used it. She pushed against the mist that was her mind, she bit through the fogginess.

Her eyes cleared and she turned her head in the direction that her name was coming from. But instead of meeting those bottomless grey eyes she expected, she was met by a familiar pair of brown which were partly shadowed by ginger bordering on red hair that partly fell over the persons eyes.

"It worked!" someone from the other side shouted and Hermione slowly turned her head to see one of the Weasley who was happy beyond himself. "What worked?" she croaked out, her mind not catching up with what was going on.

"You came out of it!" the other one exclaimed cheerfully.

"Came out of what?" she asked after Fred, she was sure it was Fred, handed her a glass of water.

"Well, you – you – we suppose that it was some kind of shock. You didn't talk or move for three days so Snape called us and now we're taking you home with us" the other twin, George supplied an explanation however it still wasn't making any sense to her.

"Snape did what?"

"He called for us" with that Fred got up from the bed, presumably hers, which he was sitting on. "Can you walk? You were frozen in that position for quite some time…"

And it was true. When she attempted to stand up, her legs refused to work and if it weren't for the boys, she would have tripped over the chair she was sitting on rather nastily. Slowly, supported from each side by one of the twins, they made their way towards the floo.

"I don't recall there ever was a fireplace in the Infirmary" Hermione said absentmindedly.

George offered the answer to that "There isn't one, usually... Just for today… The Headmaster made it available for Poppy…" he said as vaguely as was possible. He was sure that even though Hermione was talking and walking, she didn't have an actual idea about what was going on.

Stepping inside the huge fireplace that was able to accommodate their large frames, he scooped up a handful of floo powder and said "93 Diagon Alley"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Another chapter! I think this story is coming along nicely... What do _you_ think? :-) **

**Please review!**


	4. Where is my mind?

**A/N: I know, I know. Too long since my last update. I have been having one hell of a week - the end of a semester and all so I had a lot of going on. But here it is at last, another chapter! Enjoy :-)**

* * *

_Your head will collapse_  
_But there's nothing in it_  
_And you'll ask yourself_  
_Where is my mind?_

_\- The Pixies_

* * *

_Run, that was all that he could do. Shadows were pursuing him, shadows dressed in dark cloaks that emitted extreme cold that chilled him to the bone. Even though his body felt like it would freeze in the next moment, like if he dared to trip it would shatter like a porcelain cup he kept on running not caring what was in front of him, only caring about putting as much distance between him and his pursuers._

_Running, stumbling across the never-ending corridors, his breath audible as much as ticking of the clock in a room during the night. Inhaling, tick. Exhaling, tock. Tick, tock. _

_He was almost there, the dark smoke that surrounded him was clearing out but suddenly, he tripped. As if he was in slow motion he perceived his fall down like a spectator looking at some poor soul that managed to trip in the most dangerous and deadly of situations. The floor seemed to rather go further away than to come closer. However the sound of the dull sound of his body hitting the floor and the clicking noise that came from his wand hitting the stone cold and hard floor was unmistakable. _

_Motionlessly, he lied on the dark, dark floor. His limbs stayed in the exact same position they were in when he fell down, one arm curled painfully under his torso, while the other one was clutching his wand in his hand. His knees burnt from hitting the tiled floor with such force and his ears were ringing from the sudden loss of balance. When he looked down, he was able to see his reflection on the tiled ground even though it was unfocused and too horrifying to keep looking at it. _

_His nose was bleeding prufosely and slowly the side of his face that was pressed against the ground was bathed in his own blood. When did he get that wound?_

_His mind descended into a deeper awareness of his surroundings. He could practically feel those cloaked figures advancing, standing right at the feet of his lying body. He heard their swishing cloaks, he heard their feet clad in heels gently clapping against the hard surface. And then it all stopped. But the end was not to come that easily nor quickly._

_Someone was leaning above him, long heavy tresses brushed against his back, dark magic emanating off the person hovering over his side. It had to be a woman._

_Screwing his eyes shut he held his breath hoping they would be fooled and think he was dead. Hoping that they would go away that she would stand back up. But Deatheaters can't be fooled that easily. _

_He felt hot breath hit against his neck, caressing his skin in the most sensual way… Her magic tried to persuade him to give into to it, to give into the power it thought he craved. But he did not. Intuitively, he knew who was running their hand against his back covered with his cloak. Losing the little control he had over his body he still had left, he shivered. _

"_You can't outrun us…" a feminine voice drawled right into his ear. A cackle, a heinous and terrifying cackle, the distinct Bellatrix's laugh enveloped him and his eyes flew open. _

Sitting up suddenly, Neville woke up from his nightmare. A sheen of sweat had built on his forehead. His breathing still hadn't calmed down as he leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.

It had been more than two weeks since that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic and his mind made him relive those terrifying moments again and again, each nightmare being a worse and more absurd than the one before.

Leaning back he turned to lie on his right side facing the grand window and watched as the sun went out and stream of warm summer light rushed into his room.

Those two weeks had been busy and yet very mundane. Their fifth school year had come to an end right now he was back again at the Longbottom manor trying to think of an interesting way to spend his summer break. This had been his first night back home and suddenly, the prospect of being here all on his own didn't seem so appealing, if it ever did.

Palming his face with his hands he sighed deeply and tiredly. His mind was blank, not really concentrating on anything specific. He knew that it was no use to go back to sleep, it never was. He now understood why Harry always looked like hell after one of his nightmares. He could not function properly when he was part of something so vivid and so real like his nightmares.

Blindly reaching towards the bedside table, Neville grabbed his wand and with a swish of his cherry wood wand he drew the almost sheer curtains apart. He never really liked how they obscured the view he got from his window.

What was good about wizarding homes was that one could practise magic pretty much whenever one wanted. If it weren't for his shame of being unable to practise solid magic before Hermione set him straight, he would have surely used this brilliant opportunity not many of other students had. Back then, before his breakthrough with his magic this year, he didn't really need all of his family left to see him as a near squib.

He was convinced that his grandmother either didn't realise how humiliating the comparing of his and his father's magical abilities was or that she did it on purpose thusly attempting to draw the magic out of him.

She even made his great-uncle Algie drop out of the window to make him do children's accidental magic. She chided him at every opportunity she had that he didn't live up to his family's reputation.

But then, during this very Christmas, something changed in his grandmother Augusta Longbottom and she became a completely different person. She didn't comment on his work at school anymore and when she did, she praised him for his progress.

She even went to Ollivander's with him and allowed him to choose his own wand. It wasn't that he didn't like his father's wand. He loved that he could have something of his father's at his person all the time and a wand was such an important tool in a wizard's life. But it wasn't _his_ wand and it was so difficult for him to trust it.

He didn't really understand the magic that was wandlore but he caught on some of the knowledge Mr. Ollivander imparted on him when he visited the aged wizard's shop the very day he arrived from Hogwarts for his winter break.

Garrick was his name? Yes, Neville was sure that was it… Garrick first asked him why he though his father's wand wasn't good for him. In the beginning, it felt a little awkward, with his grandmother standing there and all. He hadn't realised it before but a wizard's or witch's wand was something so – so very intimate that he felt uncomfortable talking about it.

However, he wanted a wand that would work for him and him alone so he overcame his shyness and attempted to describe the feeling of doing magic with someone else's wand as best as he could.

He could still remember the words he had used that evening. He described it as if the wand didn't trust him, that it mocked his magic and that he felt like it laughed at him. He thought that the eccentric and scary wandmaker would look at him as if he had grown another head and would wave off all those nonsensical motions.

But contrary to what he had thought, the wandmaker actually took him seriously. Oh that word hurt now, even though he was only thinking about it. But those were thoughts for another day…

What the wandmaker then told him surprised him. He agreed with him, he agreed with the way he described his feelings.

"_Wands do not trust those that they did not choose and even though that after a while they mould themselves to their user's needs, they never quite admit it that the other wizard owns them…" Mr. Ollivander told him as he stared at him, prodded him with his seeking eyes. _

"_You speak of them as if they had a mind all of their own" Neville said deep in thought, perplexed by the way Ollivander spoke of his creations. _

"_But of course they do Mr. Longbottom. I believe that wands are far more complex creatures than us, wizards and witches." The owner of the shop voiced his thoughts mysteriously._

"_Now, which is your wand arm?" Mr. Ollivander enquired after he measured him with his firm gaze…_

That afternoon, almost an evening, his grandmother didn't say a thing. She just sat there and Neville supposed she solely observed what was going on in front of her.

He had surprised himself at the wandmaker's shop – with his even and confident speech and with his ability to actually communicate well with another grown wizard. It felt very surreal that night, all of it, from the strange meeting Hermione had with his grandmother to the proud glances his grandmother gave him almost every five minutes.

Hermione…

Not really caring for lying in his bed any longer he pulled the heavy duvet off of him and sat on the edge of his bed. Stretching his hands up above his head a yawn escaped him as he tried to persuade his body to cooperate with his mind.

With his wand in hand he strode towards his mahogany table where a long letter waited to be scrolled up and sent. Reading once more over what he had written the evening before he added one photograph to it and sealed it up in a hard envelope. Nodding to himself and still in his pyjamas he went in the direction of the owlery at their manor.

The Longbottom manor wasn't that big but for what it lacked in the grandeur of the actual building it made up by its incredible gardens. That was the place his love for magical flowers sprouted. Being an old family, the grounds harboured many special and rare plants that couldn't be found almost anywhere else.

And so in the time his grandmother refused to spend with him, he got to know the garden and the greenery that surrounded their centuries old home from all sides. It was his escape from his lonely childhood.

Even thought that to some, it might seem strange and almost impossible, Neville perceived all plants a being with a soul. They breathed and they needed nutrients, they were just like them. So he surrounded himself with something he understood and which didn't mock him…

Deep in thought he reached the owlery in no time and called for one of the middle sized white faced owls which landed in his prepared and raised arm with ease. It hooted at him gently and with deftness that came only with years of practice his fingers tied his letter to its leg.

"Take this to Hermione. I don't know where she is right now but please find her, for me" he pleaded with the bird perched lightly on his arm. Even though it was a rather large owl, it still weighed close to nothing.

Hooting and nodding its head at him, thus effectively showing off its incredible cleverness, it took off into the sunny summer day. Turning around, Neville went to the breakfast parlour. Breakfast was being served and he didn't want to be late.

* * *

Traveling through the floo while only half conscious was a thing she was never doing again. Her stomach felt like it was being pulled through an incredibly narrow tube and as soon as her feet hit the hearth of the twins' apartment she felt incredible queasy and wondered how it was possible she didn't just throw up. True, there was nothing in her stomach but you get her point…

The twins, still supporting her from either side, led her through a long hallway and entered a rather spacious room. Her eyelids were dropping and so where the arms of the boys. It seemed that while she was slowly but surely falling asleep standing up her body got heavier and heavier. They were all very grateful when she just pointed with her head towards the bed that was in the middle of the room and Fred and George helped her to sit on it.

"Do you have a sleeping robe?" One of the twins asked her. Mumbling something incoherently she fell back and ignored what was going on around her. It was rather rude but she hadn't slept for days, not that she knew that but her body seemed to have caught up on that fact pretty fast.

After hearing some rummaging and swearing she felt as cold but gentle hands helped her sit up and took off her cloak while someone else, the other twin she presumed, got hold of her feet and pulled of her boots.

"A little help here Hermione" one of them complained which had waken her up from her sleepiness enough to tell them that she really didn't care for what they saw. Closing her eyes again she was only vaguely aware of someone pulling of her shirt and pants and putting on her sleeping shorts and t-shirt.

She felt herself being held in someone's arms and then being laid back on the bed. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the warmth of the heavy duvet covering her body up to her chin and the soft cushions under her head. Sighing contently, she surrender herself to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, dear readers, another chapter's behind us. Maybe not what you all pictured but I have been stuck on the idea of her move to the twins appartment for weeks so I'm quite proud at how I managed that. However, I promise you that there are things going to happen in the summer that is awaiting them all, and they are going to be pretty cool :D so stay tuned and REVIEW! :D**


	5. Nothing to lose

**A/N: This chapter is for Grovek26, anabellegrace and all those who supported my work throughout the many months I had spent on writing. Thank you so much guys!**

* * *

_Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse_  
_When you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose,_  
_You're invisible now, you've got no secrets to conceal_

_\- Bob Dylan_

* * *

Slowly, her mind ascended from her sleep induced unconsciousness. Her hand, which was thrown behind her head haphazardly some time during her sleep, got drawn back so the muscles weren't being pulled so harshly. Fingers that hadn't been used for such a long time got stretched as much as they could be. Nevertheless she still haven't regained complete sense in them and the tips of her fingers remained still rather numb.

She couldn't open her eyes to the fullest since her eyelashes were stuck together and it hurt to force them open. Carefully, she rubbed her eyes, yawning as if she had no jaw joints. But it took her some time to realise that it was evening.

The room she was in was shrouded in the dark even though the curtains weren't drawn. There was only little amount of light coming from the window and Hermione relished in the darkness it clouded her in. Looking down on her body which was barely visible in the dark room she found out that somebody had changed her clothes and put on her pyjamas. Moreover, this wasn't the Infirmary she remembered entering last evening.

'What the hell happened?' she asked herself as she clumsily climbed out of the big and above all very comfortable bed. Looking around, she couldn't spot her wand and that vexed her immensely. Walking towards what she suspected was the door she stumbled upon her opened trunk and yelped out in surprise and pain

She heard a commotion outside of her room and in no time, the door swung open and a dim stream of light burst in. Two manly silhouettes were standing in the doorway, their faces completely covered by the shadows since they stood in the way of the light coming from the hallway. But from the way one figure resembled the other she guessed they were the Weasley twins.

"How did I come here?" she asked them, not entirely sure whether they haven't already had this discussion. She got the feeling she had to be sleeping for more than just one night. A day, maybe? But then how did she get here?

"Well, George and I half-carried you here…" Fred answered not looking at her.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked them while she took a look around the room. Spotting her cloak thrown over a chair, she made her way towards it. Fortunately for her, this time she didn't encounter any obstacles. Covered in her soft cloak, she turned around and stared at the boys who still hadn't answered her question.

"What's the last thing you remember?" one of them asked her.

Furrowing her brow she said "Getting money from Dumbledore and then going to the Infirmary. Why?" she asked them completely befuddled.

"Hermione, that was – that was more than a week ago" one of the twins mumbled but it was loud enough for Hermione to hear it.

"What?!" she exclaimed incredulously. She couldn't have been asleep for that long could she? "That's not possible!" she whispered.

"We swear we're not trying to take the Mickey out of you" they both defended themselves but stopped immediately knowing that Hermione wasn't very fond of their joint speech.

"You came here some four or five days ago – "

"- you were completely out of it and you slept ever since we brought you here..." The other twin concluded the sentence.

Not really wanting to stand in the doorway anymore they suggested going to the living room. Hermione followed the twins not really paying attention to the colourfully done walls of the hallway.

If she did, she would have noticed the incredible kitschy decorations hanging on the wall. However, she would have been pleasantly surprised to notice that they had posters of muggle sci-fi films glued to the wall.

Nevertheless, she did take time to study the room they let her in. There was a huge red sofa covered in all kinds of cushions in the middle of the room. Shelves were covered with trinkets of all kinds and sizes, some of them were puffing, some of them tinkling. It reminded her of the Headmaster's office and she wondered whether the twins got their obsession with noisy things from that barmy Headmaster.

Not really waiting to be offered the seat on the sofa, she plopped down on one side and let herself be swallowed by the many cushions that propped up her back. Obviously, they didn't mind her mannerless behaviour since one of them fetched a blanket which had three Ws on it and was in the colour of their hair.

She quirked her eyebrow at that but didn't say a thing, only snuggled deeper into the cushions and let out a very satisfied sigh.

"Don't fall asleep again" one of them chided her but she only chuckled and closed her eyes. She was still aware of what was going on around her mind you. Unfortunately, someone grabbed her shoulder rather harshly and shook her awake.

"I wasn't asleep!" she exclaimed annoyed but the expression on the faces she was looking her told her otherwise.

"Actually, you were, - "

"- for about another hour"

Her eyes bugged out unnaturally. 'What the hell is going on with me? Why do I need to sleep so much?' she asked herself. Sitting up, she dragged some more cushions behind her back so she could comfortably lean back but would remain sitting. She followed one of the twins go back to what she suspected was a kitchen from the noise he made.

"Oh well…" she remarked but otherwise didn't say anything else. Fred, that's the one who shook her awake was sitting in an armchair opposite the sofa and George was doing something in the kitchen and cussing rather profusely.

"You all right there Georgie?" Fred hollered at this twin and Hermione cringed at the sudden loudness of his voice.

"Next time, you are cooking!" George complained grumpily "It was you who wanted to make one of your special creations tonight, so quit bugging me with your problems" Fred teased him which probably wasn't a very good idea.

"So Her –" he didn't even manage to say her name when an apple hit his head with startling accuracy.

"Oh you wanker" Fred murmured under his breath rubbing his head. She could hear the childish laughter coming from the kitchen. It was all she could do not to laugh at Fred herself. She was sure she must have been a sight. Stifling the laugh that was bubbling in her throat and keeping her face straight must have ended up in a rather ugly grimace.

But Fred wasn't one to get flustered so easily. Taking out his wand he quickly pointed it at George's head and muttered an incantation. Curiosity winning over, she glanced at the other twin who was occupied with stirring something in a pot while a knife was magically chopping something on the knife board.

All of a sudden his hair grew into long curly and above all pink, bubble pink locks which were then bound by rouge bows. It seemed as if George didn't expect his brother to retaliate since he kept on whistling and stirring.

Hermione, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat just shook her head at the Weasley and turned to look back at the other one. There were some difference between the two of them, difference that could be recognised only after years of studying the Gryffindors, now proud owners of their own shop.

George was the sensible one and Fred the sensitive one, even though he tried to hide it as much as he could. George preferred his right leg for some strange reason and Fred had a zig zag scar on his hand. Those were one of the many things she had managed to spot in the five years she had known Gred and Forge. Oh they had their moments…

Sighing she recalled her recent predicament. She was missing more than a week of memories and that was a very disturbing feeling.

"Fred?" she started not really sure in which direction was this conversation going to head.

"Yes Hermione?" Fred asked her with equal lack of courage.

"What happened?" she had no other way of posing her question which even like this sounded very foolishly to her. But what was a girl to do?

"Well, you were kind of out of it for I think three days… You just stared out of the window at the Hogwarts grounds and you didn't even budge. So Pompfrey and Snape called us… Fred and I – it took us quite a while till you snapped out of it. But I guess you were so tired from sitting in the same position for three days and nights in a row that your body just, I don't know – shut down?" Fred explained as well as he was able to.

"I see" was all she said. Deep in thought, she missed the worrying glance the twins gave themselves, even though on Fred's side it was soon replaced by a near burst of laughter.

"What is your problem Fred?" George asked him irritated, with a strange expression on his face. "Nothing, Nothing" Fred answered with his hands up in the air in surrender.

"You're evil Fred Weasley" Hermione muttered looking straight in Fred's eyes which were sparkling with mischievousness.

"What I don't get was why I was catatonic for three days. I mean, nothing terrible happened at the Ministry. The world was robbed off two feckless Deatheaters. But that was all…" Hermione tried to find the reason behind her strange condition just days ago.

Fred looked at her as if she had grown another head.

"Is there something on my face?" she asked him at a loss of why he was acting so strangely. "Nothing 'Mione, let me check on George" he said in a rush and bolted from his seat.

Tiredness overpowered her yet again and bending her head backwards she closed her eyes. Smelling what was sure to be a wonderful meal, she tried to analyse each and every scent she could percept.

On the other side of the living room, the twins were whispering to each other frantically.

"She doesn't remember!" Fred exclaimed quietly, throwing his hands in the air wildly.

"What do you mean she doesn't remember?" George asked his twin, not really catching on what he was trying to say to him.

"I mean, she doesn't know why she was in a shock for I don't know how long!" Fred was getting desperate. What were they supposed to do? Tell her Sirius died and then go through the whole process again and again until she stops blacking out? He wasn't cruel and he sure didn't have the guts to do it to her. He was a Gryffindor which meant he was afraid of almost nothing, but this was not courage, this was cruelty!

"Calm down Freddie" George implored him but his twin acted as if he didn't hear him.

"Calm down? Calm down?" his voice was getting louder and louder until he almost whisper shouted. "We should call someone who knows her better than we do, maybe Harry!" Fred was getting more irrational by the minute as his mind kept coming up with infinite number of possibilities for the way they should break the news to her shouldn't she miraculously remember what really happen, which he doubted.

"Are you out of your mind? We can't bring Harry here! He's hiding somewhere so the Deatheaters don't catch him and I doubt bringing him to Diagon Alley would be safe... Dumbledore would have our guts served on a silver platter!" George was getting fed up with his twin. Not that he was looking forward to 'enlightening' Hermione but he would rather do it himself than spread it to the world that the person she was bonded to just died.

There were only three of them who knew the truth of Sirius's and Hermione's relationship and he wasn't entirely sure that Snape was the comforting kind.

After a moment of silence between the twins, George continued "We'll tell her and if you don't want to, fine, I can manage it alone. But we're not bringing someone else into this. You know it's dangerous. **Dangerous**, Fred!"

George was at the end of his tether. It was by no means comfortable talking about the situation Hermione was currently in.

The only constructive and practical thing Quirrell taught them in their third year was how to get rid of a boggart. He could still picture Fred's battered and bloody body, motionlessly lying on the floor. Dead. He managed to cast the Riddiculus charm but the both of them spent the afternoon in the Infirmary, binging on calming draughts. All in all, it was a thought he refused to let enter his mind ever again.

Banging his head against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room he wondered why did life had to be so, so devastating.

"Fred, look at her" George whispered when he stopped with the pointless banging of his head against the wall. He couldn't help but be mesmerised but the witch that was asleep yet again. "Let's leave her alone for the night and in the morning, we can come up with a plan on how to gently ease her into the idea…" George attempted to formulate his idea but even he couldn't help but cringe at the naivety of what he just said.

"Ease her into it? Really? Have you gone bonkers?" Fred exclaimed angrily.

"Do you have another idea if you're so bloody clever?" George asked him red in the face completely forgetting about the stew that was slowly burning on the stove.

But Fred just shook his head and raised his hands in surrender muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?" George egged him on but Fred already turned around and stalked out of the kitchen. Was his brother really that daft? No probably not, but for the last four or five days Hermione had been asleep they were ignoring the large elephant in the room.

Snape asked them to help the girl but honestly, they had no idea how. They just kind of assumed that it would clear itself out as the time went but this evening really opened their eyes. This wasn't one of the things they could just plan as they went. They were by no means reckless (not as much as they used to be when they were eleven) but they still weren't used to the thinking ahead kind of way of dealing with things.

Smelling some god-awful smell he turned around and was horrified at the sight of his brilliant stew getting burnt. Sighing, he vanished the contents of the pot and looked out of the window that was opposite of him. What he saw when he looked up surprised him so much that he shrieked like a little girl.

"FREEED!" he yelled not really caring about who he woke up and barged into the living room where Hermione was no longer asleep but laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face and Fred looked way too sheepishly.

"Sorry dear brother?" Fred tried to persuade him from using his wand at him but he was too much gone into his rage to mind his brother's apologetic expression.

"Now, now Freddie, you know what happens when you play with my hair…" George drawled, a sadistic smile on his face.

Hermione was observing what was going on in front of her eyes with morbid curiosity. When one of the Weasley twins got angry, it didn't end well. She still remembered what happened when at Grimmauld Place during the winter holidays one of their experiments got of hand and Fred made them go bald and however they tried they couldn't get their hair to grow back. Sirius had to…

Sirius…

"George?" Hermione said in a shaky voice, staring at the boy in question with wide eyes. The two of them stopped their hassle and turned to look at her, Fred with a startled expression while George looked too resigned to her liking.

"Yes Hermione?" George asked her immensely worried by her piercing gaze.

"What – what happened to Sirius?" her voice was so quiet and trembling that she wondered whether he was able to understand her. But she couldn't get rid of the dread that filled her. Images she reckoned were the fancy of her nightmares were flying in front of her eyes like a sped up film.

"He – he – " George tried to say but realised that he couldn't utter the words. Just moments ago he had spared with Fred about this exact thing, talked about easing her into it but just as Fred had pointed out to him, there was no easing in.

"For Merlin's sake what happened to him?" Hermione suddenly shouted standing up, letting the blanket fall to the floor and ignoring the numbness that came from standing on legs she hadn't used for quite some time.

It was Fred who stepped in this time, a heart-broken expression on his face that made Hermione take a step back. "Bellatrix, she stunned him and he fell into the Veil. There's no coming back from it. I'm sorry" he said quietly, but his gaze didn't waver. He looked straight into her stormy blue eyes that seemed to get darker and darker with each word he uttered.

"So he's dead" Hermione stated the fact. What was left of the sparkle in her eyes just dimmed and Fred had to avert his eyes, not being able to meet her ice-cold empty stare. "Is he?" She demanded they acknowledge the fact but all they were able to do was say a meek yes.

"And Bellatrix is the one who did it?" she asked wanting to hear it once more, wanting to know who would pay for it.

"Yes" the both of them said at the same time and only now, after what felt like an eternity filled with silence did they look at her.

To a stranger, to someone who had no idea who he was dealing with, she would look absolutely normal, confident even. But to them, they could see what was brewing below the surface that was the mask she showed the world. And once that blew up, there would be piece of Hermione for them to pick up and they weren't sure if anyone, let alone them, would be able to piece her back together.

Before they could say anything else, she announced she was going to sleep, forgetting she was looking forward to dinner just moments ago.

The twins slumped on the sofa one bending his head backwards and screwing his eyes shut, the other putting his head in his hands which rested on his thighs. None of them knew what to do next. The way she just reacted – it was not natural. It reminded them too much of a storm right before the first and deadliest thunder-bolt struck.

There was one thought running through their head 'How do you get the storm to blow over but not let it destroy itself at the same time?'

* * *

**A/N: I'm so glad I managed to write and post another chapter. I hope you liked it! Lets make things interesting... I won't post another chapter until I have at least twenty reviews. I'm not cruel oh no, I'm just way too interested in your opinion and I would like to improve my writing as much as is possible in my hectic life. So click down there on the button and review! Love you guys! :-)**


	6. Cold, Cold Heart

**A/N: I love your reviews! The first semester is finally behind me and I have some time to devote to my story so hopefully the chapters are going to be longer than before. **

* * *

_There was a time when I believed that you belonged to me_  
_But now I know your heart is shackled to a memory_  
_The more I learn to care for you, the more we drift apart_  
_Why can't I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold, cold heart?_

_\- Hank Williams_

* * *

It took Hermione two more days till she finally fully woke up. Opening her eyes, she was blinded by the bright light that streamed into the room through the large window. She didn't have any nightmares during her lengthy sleep and was pretty well rested, maybe too much. Nevertheless, that didn't mean that she wasn't planning on enjoying the rest of the day lounging in her bed.

Planning on spending the rest of the day under the warm covers wasn't such a bad idea, she told herself. Imagining the many different ways to make Bellatrix scream from unbearable pain was high on her agenda indeed. Nevertheless her musings were interrupted by a light tapping coming from the window.

Grumbling under her breath she pulled off the soft duvet and begrudgingly walked towards the window. An owl stared at her with its dark eyes. Was it possible for owls to scowl? Only after it hooted for a good matter did Hermione snap out of her sleepy state and unlocked the window. The bird flew in, looking similarly to the way Hermione did and perched itself on her chair. Unfortunately, the open window inadvertently let in the cold and biting air of the summer morning.

Angry and shivering, Hermione quickly shut the window with a loud click as the lock fit into its slot. Turning her head to take a look at the bird she noticed the envelope attached to its leg. As if urging her on, the clever owl stretched its leg towards her and Hermione, catching on, gently unbound the heavy missive from its leg.

Looking back at the bird she was surprised to see that it wanted to fly off again, not wanting any water or treats as these creatures usually did. Instead, it tapped on the glass pane with its beak as if pleading with her to let it out in the free world. Reluctantly, Hermione obliged but didn't want the cold air to get back in again. Shaking her head in disbelief, she quickly turned the knob and left just enough space for the bird to get out and quickly shut it back again.

Grabbing the thick and expensively looking envelope she jumped back on her bed and threw the covers over her bare legs, relishing in the warmth that surrounded her body at once. Sighing contently, she propped herself on her hands and shifted backwards, wanting to lean against the headboard.

Turning the heavy missive over, she spotted a rather intricate emblem on the seal. Bringing it nearer to her face, she was able to distinguish a rather peculiar crest pressed into the dark red wax. Both sides of the crest were created by branch of ivy and in the middle, there was a large cursive L with two crossed wands above it.

All in all, it was a very nice family crest but Hermione had absolutely no idea who it belonged to. Studying crests of the many pureblooded families there were was something she avoided like a plague. It was way too close to thinking of finding her own family and she was still in two minds about that. One day, she was eager to learn who her birthparents were, and next she abhorred even the word mother.

That resulted in her shying away from any genealogy books – if it didn't deal with their beloved Dark Lord that is. She was certain she was one of the few people in their world to know as much about the Slytherin family as she did.

Breaking the seal, she was surprised by the content of the envelope. Written in a neat penmanship she recognised almost instantly was a rather long letter from none other than Neville Longbottom.

Splaying out the letter on her bent up knees, she began to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you? Where have you been? You just disappeared two weeks before the end of the year and nobody really knew where you've gone... I just hope that you're somewhere safe with all the Deatheaters running around. _

_I would have invited you to stay with us at the Longbottom manor only Harry told me that you already have some place to stay. I don't want to sound rude or anything but with you having no parents or family and all I thought you might appreciate staying somewhere else other than in the orphanage. With the stuff that happened this year and the one before I can't help but worry about you so please consider coming to stay with us for a while._

_Speaking of Harry, he wasn't doing so well the last time I had seen him. After we came back from the Ministry he explained everything to me. About Sirius being innocent, that he was his godfather and all… I still have my grandma and even though my parents aren't really sane there for me, I still have them. I can't imagine what he must be going through, both of you really. I know that neither of you want my pity so just know that if you ever need something, anything, just ask!_

_My grandmother inquired about your well-being, care to explain why she's suddenly so interested in you? You don't have to if you don't want to. It's only that ever since Christmas she's acting a little weird, not bad weird but still weird... And I still remember how you met her at the King's Cross train station and she was all chummy with you. Actually I quite like the new her... She doesn't pester and torment me all the time so that is an upside. _

_But she started to be so - I suppose over cautious is the best word for it. One minute she's glad I went with you to rescue a member of the Order and the next she's scolding me for doing something so reckless. I never know which way is up with her now..._

_I'm sorry for bugging you with my family matters. You were always there for me, especially last year, and understood the way things were for me and I've missed our talks._

_The only bad news is the sudden appearance of Umbridge. On the last day of school, she stumbled out of the Forbidden Forest. It was very – unexpected to say the least… I still wonder how she managed to find a way out. She had twigs sticking out of her hair in all directions, maybe a bird used it as its nest. As soon as she entered the Great Hall she passed out. _

_Strange if you think that just two weeks ago she got claustrophobic even from being the Great Hall. I suppose she enjoyed the free space way too much. Unfortunately for the whole world, madam Pomfrey claimed that the terrible woman would eventually heal both physically and emotionally. _

_Poor madam Pomfrey, she looked like she ate something incredibly sour when she announced that._  
_That's pretty much all that happened in the two weeks you weren't there. Dumbledore cancelled all our lessons saying we already studied enough for one year. So you missed literally nothing._

_Please write soon, if just to tell you're all right._  
_Neville_

_P.S.: there's a photograph of the first Order of the Phoenix enclosed, Harry gave me a copy and McGonagall was kind enough to do one for you so you can keep it_

Looking inside the thick envelope again, she spotted another folded piece of paper and pulled it out. Putting Neville's letter aside she spread the opaque photograph. It was the exact copy of the one Sirius gave Harry before their fifth year.

Tears wanted to spill from her eyes and she could feel her heart clench at the memory and in that moment she had had enough with the waterworks. She couldn't concentrate on anything while her heart was being squished under the tons of feelings she was forbidden from feeling.

Knowing there was only one way out, knowing that in this state she wouldn't be able to help anybody, she resolved to lock all those feelings away.

She remembered reading something like this in a book from the Black library. It dealt with organising your thoughts and the structure of your memories. However, there was also a section on emotions. Even though the author considered it a foolhardy feat, locking your part of your feelings away, he did describe a way of accomplishing such a task.

Closing her eyes, she performed the task she did many times before, she descended deep into her mind. Only now did she realise that she hadn't attempted the Animagus transformation in a long time and made a mental note to try it later. Going even deeper than before, she started to pull every memory she had of Sirius and separated them from every feeling she connected with those very memories. In the end she was left with raw memories without any emotional involvement.

It was hard letting go of those feelings. They were still there, at the very bottom of her mind. She knew this was just another form of denial, but she didn't have time and most of all energy to deal with his death. It would leave her crippled for many days, months, even years to come. If she let herself feel all those things she did before, she wouldn't be able to deal with what was going on now. So fighting her way away from what she left behind she opened her eyes, her heart cold, just like it was before she met him.

Looking at the magical photograph in her hand she realised she had never studied it thoroughly before. They were all waving happily at her, hearts filled with hope. She recognised each and every one of them from the many hours she spent with reading about the First Wizarding War.

From what she knew about the Order's history; which was not much since all the information she got came from newspaper clippings and books written by everyone but a member of the Order phoenix; it was only the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix on the photograph in her hand. It was a startling realisation – that the Order had the same hierarchy.

Though it was less widespread knowledge than the one about the ranks in-between the Deatheaters it was still there and for the first time Hermione was thinking about whose side she was fighting on. Shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts that suddenly rushed through her mind, she concentrated on the photograph spread on her legs again.

There were circa twenty of them.

The first generation of the Order was very young, but still older than them, still older than Harry and all the others. They still had time to grow up properly before they had to fight for their lives and didn't have to forget about enjoying the time they had left in the world.

Though Hermione supposed it wasn't a bed of roses all the time for them. Everyone has their own personal demons, some of them admit that they have them, and some of them cover from them…

Putting the photograph down, she slid further down the bed, exhaling loudly. The letter surprised her, in a good way. She was glad to get some news about the outside world, even though it bothered her immensely that Umbridge looked like she would recover eventually.

Harry must be in a wretched state right now. He had lost one of his last connections to his parents; he had lost someone who was as close to being his father to him as anyone could get, excluding the fact that she was almost hundred percent sure that he blamed it all on himself.

If there was anyone to blame, it was her. She wasn't one to play the martyr, no, she faced this terrible fact head on. This one simple thought seemed to shred her insides and destroy the little compassion she had left for herself. Always being more of the realistic bordering on pessimistic point of view, she realised she was the _only_ one to blame.

Her reasoning was clear if only a tad faulty. Fancying herself to be of an analytic and logical mind, she should have realised that Harry was by no means in the right mind to check on Sirius in the first place. She had no idea who he had asked but one assumption outweighed all the other ideas she had.

If Harry asked Kreacher whether Sirius, or any of the Order were present at Grimmauld place or not, the house-elf was not obliged to tell him the truth. And Hermione was by no means blind and couldn't help but realise that Kreacher didn't exactly like his Master very much. And Harry was not his rightful Master so the Black house-elf could technically tell him anything he wanted. Were it true or false.

She should have seen that one coming, but she didn't hence the first reason why she was to blame for Sirius's death.

Her other reason was that she shouldn't have abandoned Harry when the Deatheaters caught up with them in the chamber with the Veil in it. That room had been incredible cold and horrifying. However, at the same time it felt like it was sucking her into it, not wanting to release her from its hold on her. She didn't know the name the Unspeakables gave the room in the first place but there was nothing more fitting than combining it with the word death.

It was the exact way she imagined death. Cold and horrifying. Once it got its eyes set on you it wouldn't let go.

'Merlin, why do I have so pessimistic thoughts today?' she asked herself. She half expected the other her to answer but there was nothing more than complete silence. It was eerie in a sense. She had gotten used to the many conversations she had with the voice but now it was gone.

Maybe she should have been sad that it was gone but she wasn't. She was relieved in a way that it wasn't going to moan and whine about every decision she made. Nevertheless she couldn't help but realise that she was feeling very different. She would have ascribed it to her getting rid of – 'no that is not the right word for it' she told herself. She would have ascribed it to her smothering every feeling she had for the dog Animagus but at the same time she knew that wasn't it.

It was something else entirely. Looking around for her wand, she spotted it sticking out from her cloak pocket. Getting out of her bed, she changed into some clothes she pulled out of her trunk and once she was clothed she walked towards the cloak hanging on the door.

Taking hold of her wand, she expected to feel the rush of energy she got every time she got her hand around the piece of thin wood. But this time, she didn't feel a thing. 'This is weird…' she thought as she cast a simple accio, wanting to summon the letter that was haphazardly lying on her bed. What she didn't expect was the force with which it crashed right into her face, almost gouging her eye.

"What in the…" she muttered to herself as she picked up the piece of parchment from the floor. Spotting a book on the only table in her room, she pointed her book at it and muttered a quiet "Wingardium Leviosa". She was sure she did everything correctly, either the wand movement or the incantation, she was one hundred percent sure she didn't make a mistake, and yet the book shot into the air with such a force that it ended up crashing against the ceiling with a loud bang which led to her loosing concentration. With another loud thud, it fell down onto the desk, leaving Hermione with eyes bugged out like she had just seen someone come back from the dead.

"Okay, so spells are a bit wonky…" she recited out loud, stating the obvious while trying to keep her cool. This was more than freaky. "What is it that I wanted to try? Ah,yes, the Animagus transformation…" she said out loud, trying to calm her nerves.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on pushing her magic out of her core throughout her whole body. It felt like she was being doused in incredibly cold liquid. Supressing the shudder from the sudden cold, she concentrated on her beautiful wolf. On her Shadow.

Eyes still closed, she felt her legs shortening, her head transforming into the one of her wolf. The pain was excruciating. It felt like her intestines were being stretched and pulled from all sides. It felt like her head was being split in two. She heard her bones breaking and mending back together. A scream of incredible pain escaped her mouth but was soon replaced by a loud howl. And then, the pain was over.

She felt something weird on her back and turned round to see what it was. But not being used to walking on four legs, she immediately crumbled to the floor, her limbs tangled together. This gave her the opportunity to observe her new body and she spotted the thing that bothered her so much just a moments ago.

She had a tail. Curiously, she lifted it up and down, swishing it from side to side. Advancing the new part of her anatomy with wonder she craned her wolfish head forward and snapped her tail with her sharp teeth. Yelping in pain she darted away. But still not being used to moving on four legs, she crushed into her bed.

Whining, she laid down on the floor. She felt like something was missing, like there should be someone playing with her, chasing her, someone with dark and soft yet shaggy fur. What her human part managed to push away, her canine part felt even more. Whining even more loudly, she covered her snout with her front paws, efficiently blocking the view she had of the door.

But her hearing still worked, now amplified because of her being a wolf. It didn't take long for her to hear the commotion at her door and in no time, two read heads stumbled in through the door.

"Hermione, are you…" one of them began to say, but then he spotted the most beautiful creature lying on the floor.

"Fred!" he quickly alerted his brother who was standing right behind him. And then, even the second Weasley twin was staring at the canine lying at the feet of Hermione's bed.

Even though Hermione didn't see them, she was very much aware of the stares the two of them were giving her.

"Hermione?" Fred asked her tentatively and this time, Hermione couldn't help but raise her head and look at them with her huge shiny blue eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Yay! Finally has her wolf side there. I think the broody part of the story is over, even though there will come some pretty sad moments... It wouldn't be my story if there weren't... :D I have to say that I'm still quite unsure as to how to deal with the whole Sirius situation. I thought I had it all thought out, but then, there are some things that are undecided yet. Next chapter is going to be fun so stay tuned and REVIEW! :-)**


	7. Shadow, the She-Wolf

_Previously:_

"_Hermione?" Fred asked her tentatively and this time, Hermione couldn't help but raise her head and look at them with her huge shiny eyes. _

* * *

The boys were startled by the depth of her stormy dark blue eyes. Two, almost black pools were drawing them in, piercing their souls and they couldn't help but feel as though her gaze touched their hearts.

They had absolutely no idea that she was attempting to become an Animagus, but the first thought that went through their minds was that they shouldn't have been surprised by this turn of events. Though she was a beautiful wolf, one of the most intriguing and marvellous creatures they had ever set their eyes upon, they sensed that something was terribly wrong with her.

Her ears with white edges should have been alert and not downcast as if they've just scolded her. She should be running around the room and not lying resignedly on the floor. Neither of the boys realised the obvious reason for the mournful behaviour of the she-wolf.

Crouching in front of her Fred slowly stretched his arm forward, indicating that he was going to pet her head. Not wanting to get his hand bit of, he advanced slowly, maintaining eye contact with the animal in front of him.

She was indeed a strange wolf. Her fur should be grey-ish as was the usual but instead it was almost pitch black. The top of her ears were white, as were her paws and the tip of her tail. She had a white spot near her muzzle which seemed like a freckle. Her unbelievably huge eyes observed him as his hand etched closer and closer.

What he thought would be rough fur was actually as soft as baby's skin. It flowed through his fingers like the gentlest stream of water. It was so light that he almost didn't feel it touching the palm of his hand.

Being scratched at her ears felt like heaven. She inclined her head to the side which prompted the Weasley twin to pet her in earnest and she couldn't help but close her eyes at the blissful feeling. This close proximity enabled her to smell all of those wonderful scents that enveloped the man kneeling in front of her. He smelled of caramel fudge, Fluxweed and freshly laundered clothes.

However, these sweet scents were soon replaced by an abhorring stench coming from George's direction. Crinkling her nose in disgust, she earned herself a laugh from Fred.

"See, I told you stepped into that filth on the street! She can smell it too!" Fred didn't waste any time mocking his twin.

What even the ever observant Fred failed to notice was the way the wolf in front of him cringed at his loud voice. Being fed up with lying on the floor when she could be running around on four legs, she attempted to stand up again, only this time, she went about it in a different way.

Stretching her front legs as far as she could, she then put her right paw right under her furry body and slowly, clumsily, she managed to sit up. She felt like a puppy who didn't have time to learn how to move around. Which she didn't…

Finally, after struggling for a few seconds, she managed to bend her spine just the right way for her to sit up.

Fred, who was still kneeling in front of her, observed her with curiosity shining through his eyes. He had never seen a dog Animagus before. Of course he knew McGonagall was a cat Animagus but that old professor was just so accomplished with her human transfiguration that he could stare at her all day long and he wouldn't percept any difference between her in her Animagus form and an actual cat.

Hermione, on the other hand, seemed very new to this. He even wondered whether this was her first transformation.

She was a bit surprised by the view the changed position brought her. As she was no longer lying on the floor, she was able to see on her bed, out of the window or through the open door as well.

The only thing left to do was picking up her butt of the floor so she could stand properly. What she supposed would be an easy task, soon began to irritate the hell out of her. First, she managed to step on her tail as she was standing up which led to her falling again form shock, and having to repeat the whole process of sitting up again. Fortunately, this time, it took her not even a second.

Then, her front leg somehow managed to bend itself so she was standing only on three legs which led to some serious loss of balance. So once more, she had to do it all over again.

Nevertheless, she didn't let this deter her. She knew form the journal by the Slytherin writing in green ink that it took some time for her animal side to gain the usual reflexes of the animal she became – in her case a wolf. Even though she already had the smell, sight and hearing of the canine family she lacked their agility and gracefulness of movement. Well, practice makes the master and there isn't anyone who would understand this statement better than her.

What looked like a total disaster in the beginning became one of the most exhilarating experiences in her life. She ran through the apartment, jumped on sofas, rolled around in her bed which ended up with her tearing one of the feather cushions. White tiny feathers were floating all around the room and she jumped in the air like a small child on a Christmas morning wanting to catch at least one of the little feathers.

Snapping at the plumes that looked as if they were swinging to and fro on calm waves in the ocean, she managed to catch at least ten of them. Subsequently she had to rid herself of the small threads that were stuck on her pink tongue, nevertheless, she still grinned like a fool. Well, as much as a wolf can grin and not look completely menacing.

She lost her human side altogether and let herself be consumed by the animalistic part of her. But after a while, she realised that even the best game of fetch (mind you, even wolves can get caught up in that) wouldn't fill the cold that spread through her body. At first she didn't know where it came from.

She tried and tried to remember something, anything, which would make her feel that way, so wound up, so agitated but every time she did, she came up with nothing. All those memories… She was sure she was supposed to experience at least some of those feelings she was sure she once did. But she didn't.

And in that moment she realised that pushing it all away so she wouldn't feel it anymore wasn't the solution to her utter desolation. Far from it.

Being in such a primal state as an Animagus brought out all of what she desperately tried to squish by the infinity of her mind. She wanted to push it back as she did when she was human but found out that she couldn't do it. Her bond to Sirius was so strong that her wolf refused to part with it. Shadow, as she began to call herself, felt it even more deeply than she did when she banished all those feelings away.

Realising that one day, and that day would come sooner rather than later, she would have to deal with all of those repressed emotions and she saw that that day wouldn't be good. Not good at all. She was aware of the fact that what she had just done this morning was an act against nature.

Why? You should never, ever separate a memory from the emotion it induced in you. Because when you do, your mind becomes hazy and chaotic and after a while, it starts to push those hidden feelings and emotions back to those memories who lack them. And it isn't gradually, it happens all at once, as if an avalanche came rushing down on you.

She was aware of all those warnings, nevertheless she paid no head to such silly notice. She thought it silly just an hour or two ago, but now? Now she wasn't so sure if it was such a good idea in the first place.

Knowing that a wolf cocking its head to the side at nothing in the middle of a room must be a rather strange site, she concentrated on transforming herself back to her human form.

Her short legs stretched and she felt it all. She felt her tendons rupturing and attaching back to the bone, she felt her nails slip back under the skin of her fingers. She felt the fur descend back into her skin and if felt like tiny needles were prickling her skin everywhere. Her cheeks were wet from the tears that cascaded down from her eyes, her chest heaved with laboured breathing.

Her body laid on the floor in the foetus position, her knees clutched to her chest as she tried to calm down her racing heart.

Hoping that the next transformation wouldn't be so darn painful she pulled herself to the side so she was sitting up and leaning against the headboard of her bed, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

Muscles she didn't know she had till now ached like never before, and yet a goofy smile appeared on her face. After almost a year of trying and failed attempts, she became an Animagus. She didn't see her form in real life, but she was more than content with the image she got form the many trips to visit her inner Shadow.

Looking around herself she found out she was sitting in a heap of feathers. The whole floor was dusted with the white soft plumage that was once inside the many pillows lying on her bed.

Giggling to herself, she searched for her Vinewood wand. Spotting it lying on the table, she dragged herself off the ground. Suddenly it occurred to her that Remus must have been going through something like this every month, every year since his early childhood. And she was sure that for him, it was even more painful than what she had just experienced.

Clutching the piece of wood in her hand she mutter a quick _'Reparo'_. Unfortunately, she forgot all about the incidents with her wonky magic this morning. As if on cue, all of the pillows that were still left in one peace before she decided to rip them apart as a wolf blew up spectacularly.

Hermione didn't even budge, she just stared at the room that was once again bathed in floating feathers. A silent curse was left on her lips, as her mouth hanged open. A tiny feather flew into her nose which made her sneeze rather loudly.

* * *

The twins had decided that one of them would stay at their apartment at all times in case Hermione woke up. The days flew by one by one and even though she was awake for a few hours one evening, she spent over a week asleep.

On the morning of the eleventh day, it was Monday which was a day off for them, Fred decided to lie in, while his twin went out to buy some fresh pastry in a nearby muggle bakery. They found it just a week ago and were completely blown away by the bakery counter brimming with amounts of rolls, bread, cakes, pies and many other treats.

George came back with the usual – some fresh apple pie and still warm half a loaf of bread. Setting it back on their dining table, he went to his room to change clothes and on his way there, he was met by Fred who just came back from checking on their shop.

These were dangerous times and even though the boys had a day off, one of them still checked on the wards they put up every night. The Diagon Alley was slowly clearing out, people were selling their apartments, their shops – many windows were already boarded up.

Nevertheless their shop managed to bring some much needed cheer to the now misty and cold thoroughfare of Wizarding Britain.

Hearing a shriek of pain coming from their guest's room they rushed through the hallway and opened the door ferociously for the first time that day.

The second time came when they heard a loud bang coming from her room, as if one of their fireworks just blew up. Hoping that it wasn't anything serious George gave Fred a look that clearly said that he was the one to deal with the crisis.

It took the twins only a few moments to find out who was the better one of them to deal with whatever their guest brought upon them. Fred's disposition to be able to think deeply about the issue at hand, to be able to understand someone who kept a better part of themselves hidden from prying eyes of gossipers, even their closest friends.

Swiftly walking towards the door that was left slightly open, he peered through the crack in-between the door and its frame. Small fuzzy threads were floating in the air and were gleaming as the light reflected through them. Pushing the door ajar with his hand, he gazed into a room full of floating feathers.

Laughing out loud he observed the gobsmacked expression on Hermione's face and the helpless look she gave him as she stared at him.

"You had a pillow fight and didn't invite me?" Fred exclaimed with mock hurt as he clutched the palms of his hands to his chest.

"I…" Hermione started to say but couldn't find the words to express her incredulousness.

With just a wave of his wand, Fred managed to repair the ragged pillows and the feathers scattered all over the floor filling those plush cushions again. Seeing the ease with which the wizard in front of her restore what she had destroyed just a moments ago made realise just what a mess she was in.

"My magic is a bit eh- dodgy…" Hermione muttered rolling the wand between her fingers.

"What do you mean dodgy?" Fred asked her intrigued. He already knew that she was a true sorceress when it came to magic and even thinking that there might be something wrong with that incredible gift of hers hurt his heart.

"Watch…" Hermione said as she pointed her wand at the book that she had previously attempted to levitate. Loud and clear she said the incantation of the levitation charm and with trepidation she watched as the book abruptly leapt in the air with incredible force.

Fred watched as the girl – no, woman in front of him waved her wand and performed a first year spell to utter perfection. But despite her flawlessness and fluidity of her movement and incantation, one of the easiest spells ended up terribly wrong.

* * *

**A/N: And here's the chapter you all wanted so badly, I wrote it during only one afternoon nevertheless I hope it's still good despite the rashness of my writing. I don't know when I'll find the time to write another chapter so I'm sorry if you're going to wait for a bit... What did you think about it? :-)**

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW :-)**


	8. Power and Fear

_It is not power that corrupts but fear. Fear of losing power corrupts those who wield it and fear of the scourge of power corrupts those who are subjected to it._

_\- Aung San Suu Kyi_

* * *

"Oy, George!" Fred shouted his brother's name after he snapped out of the shock Hermione brought him in.

"What now, Freddie?" The other twin hollered across the apartment annoyed for he was currently enjoying his very tasty breakfast. A Weasley can think only after they've eaten (and that applies also for the females in their family) and right now, his brother - his brother mind you, who should understand their peculiar disposition, decided to disturb his morning peace and the brilliant one sided conversation he had with the scrambled eggs on his plate.

"Come 'ere" he heard him call. Angrily he deposited the cutlery on his plate and with a murderous expression stood up and strode towards what was now Hermione's room.

"What Fred?" He snapped at the other red head.

What many people didn't see and realise was that even though they were twins, the closest pair of twins you can get, it by no means meant that they were blindly in love with each other or something similarly preposterous... True, they knew each other better than they knew themselves which led to far less fights than in a 'usual' sibling relationship. Nevertheless that didn't mean there weren't any fights at all, it didn't mean that they didn't occasionally snap at each other - like just a few moments ago.

He expected everything but the placid expression on his twin's face and the terribly frightened one on their guest's.

Not really knowing the reason for their sudden need of his person, as usual, he asked Fred what was going on.

"Show him Hermione" His twin who had a very soft spot for the Gryffindor prompted the girl standing in the room as far away from them as possible. That alone should have told him that there was something off about this whole situation.

Hermione only raised her brow delicately, not really seeing the point in acting like a trained circus monkey.

"As you wish' she murmured. Knowing that low power spells seemed to end up in a complete catastrophe, she tried to think of something different.

Finally deciding on a simple, but power consuming lighting charm, she pointed her wand at the candle in its candlestick attached to the blood-red wall and muttered the incantation.  
She wouldn't give it a rest and as she attempted to perform yet another spell, she saw just how much power she now possessed.

A huge cloud of angry red and yellow flames left her wand, heating it up to unbearable temperatures. Dropping the feeble piece of wood on the floor, she watched as the fire slowly went out, but managed to destroy the one thing she refused to ever give away. Her wand.

It caught on fire as easily as a pile of dried hay. The three of them watched as gentle flames licked the thin piece of wood, as the core that was once irreversibly inserted inside flew out and sparkled as it was met with fresh air. They watched the once unbearable weapon curl up like a ball of yarn until it disintegrated and became ash.

"Well, Ollivander still hasn't closed down..." George tried to lighten up the mood but failed miserably.

"Aye dear brother of mine, that one hasn't closed down yet..." Fred murmured looking at Hermione with concern. She looked even more panicky than before. Well, watching your wand getting burnt to crisp right in front of your eyes will do that to you.

The funny thing was that the moment her beloved piece of wood disintegrated, it felt like the last thread of those bonds around her core broke. As soon as she lost the connection that feasted on her magic, she became aware just how much it restrained her since the beginning. Her fingers prickled with pent-up energy like they hadn't ever since she first met Dumbledore. A part of her was hers again and no one was going to take that away from her.

But she still needed her wand since she had absolutely no idea how to do wandless magic. A wand was what she needed and it was what she would get, whatever it took (those few steps to cross the street and enter Ollivander's didn't seem like a difficult task...)

Understanding what they meant with their previous statement about closing down, she shooed them out of her room with a newfound vigour and quickly dressed herself.

Even though that most of the time she ended up wearing black skinny jeans that looked like they were painted on and t-shirts of her favourite rock bands, ever since she was able to observe the crème de la crème of the wizarding society while she worked in the shop under Madame Cannelle she began to adore what those women wore.

The only dress she owned was the one she bought last summer while shopping with Remus. It might sound weird to some but the werewolf had incredible patience when it came to the shopping whims of his best friend's girl. Her heart felt if someone pinched it at that thought but that lasted only for a second. Her feelings were still safely tucked away at the bottom of her mind and weren't getting out anytime soon.

Putting the intricate dress on, she observed as it flowed down over her curves like liquid silk. Even though she was still rather small, it didn't stop her from having beautiful long legs and a nice body (thanks to the nightly flying trips and practicing magic like a martial arts). One could say she had a body and grace of a ballet dancer.

Even though she didn't notice it most of the time, if she ever did, the way she moved, the way she practised her magic gave those around her a feeling of inferiority. But not in a bad way. She looked so obvious to it all, so innocent that most of those around her didn't fault her for it. She was born with the decorum of an aristocrat and everybody thought the same when they found the time to get to know her and saw exactly that. But as soon as this notion entered their minds, they dismissed it because of its absurdity.

Only the families of the Seven were born with this kind of grace and suave. The Black's, Darwin's, Peverell's, Bones's, Eadwig's and Godwin's were the one of the Seven of the Wizarding world, not that Hermione knew anything about that. Most of those families were wiped out, especially because each and every dark wizard was afraid of their immense power and influence.

And the seventh one? They were supposed to be the most powerful out of the group but people could only guess who they were.

Only about fifty or so years ago their world had been at its height. But then Grindelwald and Voldemort came and destroyed what the former managed to leave in one piece. The power of the Seven diminished, as did the glory of the whole wizarding world.

However that didn't stop the many families from trying to impersonate what they could never be. Women clothed in robes worthy of royalty, throwing money away every chance they got. But their tastes and manners were still impeccable and from time to time Hermione thought about what it would be like to live like that. A peasants dream she called it, being one hundred percent sure that something like that would never happen.

And in one such a state she brought the dress she was wearing now. It reached to just above her ankles as was the custom for wizarding robes. The dress had a sweetheart neckline and almost an inch thick straps that held the dress in place. The corset like black top glazed her body like a man's hand marvelling at the smoothness of a sculpture of Italian women.

At her waist, the silk began to flow more freely, its many layers completely fanning out at her feet. From the darkest of shade of black it slowly changed into the lightest shades of grey. Surprisingly, her dragon-hide boots came rather well with the whole look.

Pulling out the pendant from under her dress she carefully laid it on top of the soft fabric, not caring one bit about the fact that someone might recognise it for what it is – a possession found only in the Black family.

The only thing she wasn't accustomed to yet was her strange hair. She did notice it getting darker from its usual dull light brown to the now dark mahogany black colour over the course of the last few months. What was new though, were the almost white strands framing her face in gentle yet pronounced curls. It oddly reminded her of her Shadow. 'When did that happen?' She asked herself as she fastened the leather pouch with some of her money around her waist. Grabbing her cloak she checked the overall product in the mirror and with a content smile went in search of the twins.

"Well that was quick..." George observed looking up from his cup of lukewarm tee as the distinct click of heels resonated throughout the hallway. He was a bit surprised by what he saw. The once bushy hair girl stood there before them like a completely different person. Slightly smirking, he set down his now cold and disgusting cup of tea and strode towards the door.

Fred, however, didn't offer any enlightening comments as per usual, only stood up from the sofa he dozed off on and drowsily went towards them and like a gentleman opened the door for her and followed the enigmatic woman outside.

It had been more than a week, more than two weeks actually if her estimations were correct, since she had last stepped outside onto the fresh air. It was around two o'clock in the morning and a Monday at that and Diagon Alley was almost completely empty.

Even though the street was full of bright summery light, the air was crisp, moody and dark. Goosebumps appeared all over her arms and she clutched her cloak closer to her body to brace herself from the cold. Her cloak provided her with gentle warmth and a sense of calm strange calm overcame her senses.

The journey to Ollivander's wand shop wasn't long, it took the group of three less than five minutes to walk towards the murky shop that supplied most of the Wizarding Britain with their wands.

Taking a hold of the handle, Hermione softly and eagerly pushed the door open, unaware of the feeling she would get as soon as she stepped inside.

Her magic, still not used to being allowed to flow freely without any restrictions reacted rather violently when it was met with the energy of the enumerable pieces of magical wood and cores. It wanted to touch every piece of that strangeness that were the wands, it wanted to stretch its wings like it had never done before.

Hermione felt like she was stretched on the rack. Only she wasn't being pulled solely by her arms and legs, she was pulled by her magic. The twins sensing her distress surrounded her like a flock of pigeons and asked her at least ten times if she was ok.

But no sooner did she reply then the owner of the shop himself made an appearance.

"I didn't expect to see you ever again Miss. Vinewood, dragon heartstring core, 10 ¾ inches long, good for charms if I recall" Mr. Ollivander stated with practised ease. But then the silvery haired frail man looked at the girl who was standing her with so much pain etched on her face and sudden sense of understanding washed over him.

"I wouldn't fight it dearie" he said as he strode towards the counter at the forefront of his shop.

Hermione, who was still fruitlessly trying to pull back on the invisible chains that were stretching them to all sides, gave up and a sudden feeling of abandon and gratefulness sprang up from within her. Quickly recovering from her sudden panic attack (she didn't find any more suitable name for what had just happened to her) she smiled at the man who had sold her her first wand that was met by such an unfortunate end.

"Yes you do remember correctly, Mr. Ollivander" she replied politely while wondering why he didn't say her name as he did the last time. A very old memory told her that this man standing in front of her remembered each and every wand he sold and whom he sold it to.

"Ah and Messrs Weasley, do you by chance have problems with the wands I sold you seven years ago?" Mr. Ollivander asked, confirming Hermione's suspicion that he indeed did remember everything. But he also seemed to like stalling.

"Not today Mr. Ollivander" Fred answered politely, even though a tad stiffly. "We – well, not we exactly-" George started to say but Fred continued instead of him.

Somehow, they managed to supress their incredible need to speak as one today and Mr. Ollivander was incredibly grateful for that. He did have a soft spot for twins since they were tricky to sort out and he loved the challenge. But when these two opened their mouths the first time they were here it led to some rather unfortunate accidents which he would better refrain from mentioning ever again. Merlin knew their mother had a patience of a god.

"What Georgie here's trying to say that Missy fidgety here-" "Hey I do not fidget!" she exclaimed angrily but Fred interrupted her as easily as he did his brother and continued as if she never said anything "is in a need of a new wand." He concluded and stepped back, giving Hermione space to explain her situation by herself.

"And why is it that you need a new wand Miss?" Ollivander asked her, refusing to say her surname. 'Did it reach him too that I'm not really Miss Granger?' Hermione asked herself as she perused him with her eyes.

The last time she was here she was a bit scared – well, freaked out is a better word for it, and didn't pay much attention to the man who supplied her with one of her most precious possessions. The one she regarded as the most cherished one was the pendant hanging around her neck. And since her cloak was left unclasped, the black diamond flickered in the light being cast on it by the many candles in the shop.

She didn't miss the wandering eye of the wandmaker and the curiosity in them as soon as he spotted what was hung around her neck on the silver chain. Nevertheless, the ever-inquisitive Mr. Ollivander didn't even attempt to remark anything or ask her how she came to be in possession of such a jewel. Instead, he rubbed his hands together and cast her a questioning look which reminded her that she hadn't answered his question yet.

"How much of what I say here will make its way to stranger's ears?" she asked him wanting to be sure that what was said here would also stay here. The twins, who were sitting comfortably each on one of the two armchairs which were in the shop, looked at each other completely baffled by her mistrusting behaviour. But they soon went back to what they were discussing before.

"Well Miss, I assure you that none of what is said in here is repeated elsewhere. One's wand is a very intimate topic. But of course, I cannot vouch for your entourage…" he said with a slight tilt of his head in the direction of the two ginger-haired men.

Hermione, not wanting to discuss their blind obedience towards Dumbledore, came up with another way of keeping their conversation quiet. It wasn't that she didn't trust the two. She was only too paranoid, sometimes for her own good, when it came to openly discussing her private matters.

Casting a sideway glance at her company she realised the two of them were in their very own bubble, literally. She had to laugh at the mischievous gleam in their eyes that told her they were discussing their joke shop.

"Maybe, Mr. Ollivander, it would be prudent to cast a prolonging charm on that bubble of theirs" she said with a conspiratorial smirk that warmed the old man's heart. It was nice to see that the young generation still managed to keep its free spirit. Pointing his wand at the two of them he made sure that they would have at least half an hour of privacy.

"Now Miss, would you like to finally enlighten me as to why you find yourself without a wand?"

"Well, first of all you need to know that my magic was bound since my very first time I came to visit the wizarding world. I am not completely sure if that has anything to do with the wand that chose me. It doesn't matter who was behind this action, though I presume that _you_ are able to at least guess…"

And indeed, Ollivander could take a guess, easily at that, at who bound the girl's core. There was only one person in their world who would do such a foulness out of sheer fear. Albus Dumbledore. And if his guess was right he did it because of someone who was once a frighteningly sweet boy able to wrap you around his little finger. Tom Riddle.

When it came to sheer ominousness, one could be sure that Garrick Ollivander knew far more than the Hogwarts Headmaster. But he didn't flaunt his knowledge and instead burrowed himself deep into the study of wandlore, the most tricky and slippery part of magic.

"Before I came to Hogwarts I was able to perform controlled magic – wandless is the right term for it I suppose, and it didn't take me long to realise that something was wrong once I was at Hogwarts and couldn't practise magic with the ease I was used to. I did some research… I do not claim to understand wandlore, but I found out that according to some general rules, the wand that chose me wasn't the one for me…"

"Very good Miss, do go on" Ollivander prompted her, never being able to be witness to such an occurrence that was happening in front of him. As he looked at her, he began to notice things which were unusual, nevertheless well hidden by what he supposed to be an oblivious exterior. Her posture was one of a lady, her expression cold and way of speaking to the point, yet it left you guessing.

There was something about her but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was sure that the next wand that chose her would be one of his most magnificent creations, even though in the back of his mind there was doubt. He wasn't entirely sure whether she would find a match in those stacks of boxes with a single wand each.

And the pendant hanging around her neck. He sure didn't have the slightest idea as for how Sirius Black's name stone appeared upon Miss Hermione's bosom. Did the two of them meet? He always thought that the night the one-who-must-not-be-named died was a bit sketchy. Young Mister Potter and Black were as close as they come and those two couldn't betray each other. So was it possible that after the latter managed to escape from that god-awful place in the north he stumbled upon the elusive Miss whose surname he didn't know an became what? Friends?

Shaking his head in order to stop wondering about frivolities he turned his attention back to Miss Hermione.

"Around Christmas, and many times before that, my magic – there was something amiss with it. So with the help of some people" she made a gesture with her hand as she said the last word, indicating that she would rather leave those people unmentioned.

Seeing him nod his head in understanding she continued. "I found out my magical core was bound. Some things happened since then and my magic went loose. I'm fairly certain that at the present, there are no more bounds. Nevertheless the sudden change in my magic turned my last wand into ash" Hermione stated coldly, looking the older man straight in the eye.

He did not flinch, he didn't even look surprised at the fact that she managed to burn her own wand.

"Well, we have to look for another one then…" he said as if just went into heaven. Bestowing one of her rare honest smiles at him, she watched as he disappeared into the many rows of shelves that were at the back of his shop.

If she didn't know better she would think he had forgotten all about her from the way he let her waiting. She didn't count the minutes, that would be rude, but she was sure he spent more than half an hour in-between those many shelves and boxes.

By then the twins got up from their chairs, clearly already finished with everything they needed to discuss.

"Don't think we didn't notice that the old master put some spell on us" George whispered in her ear but Hermione acted as if she didn't hear him. "Actually, we would like to thank you, you see, for you did us an incredible favour" Fred shushed in her ear from the other side. And even though Hermione managed to keep her disinterested expression, her eyes gleamed at the prospect of pissing them off.

After another five minutes of pointless staring, fidgeting, pacing and biting of nails Mr Ollivander finally remerged carrying what Hermione suspected to be at least thirty wand boxes. And the testing began.

"Ash, Dragon heartstring 12 ½ inches, pleasantly subtle" Mr Ollivander handed her a wand he just took out and Hermione stretched her hand for it in excitement. But as soon as her fingers touched the wand, it sprang away from her as if having a mind on its own.

"No, not that one" and he immediately snatched it away.

"Hawthorn, Phoenix Feather, 10 inches, slightly bendy" he tried another one and Hermione eyed it with wary eye. There was something terribly wrong with this wand. But despite her instinct she reached for the dark wood. Which it obviously didn't like. It heated up so much that Hermione had to drop it to the floor where it combusted into a set of fireworks.

"Nope, obviously not that one" Mr Ollivander observed and handed her yet another piece. This one, though, didn't look so bad.

"Willow, Unicorn hair, 10 ¾ inches, swishy" he handed it to her and with a loving touch Hermione took it. But it did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Hmm…." He murmured as he practically yanked it out of her hand. Hermione would have thought that he at least had some manners.

"What about this one. Dogwood, Thestral tail hair 9 ¼, rather playful." But even looking at it made her sick to her stomach and Hermione downright refuse to touch it.

"No?" he quirked his brow at her and searched for another option.

"Walnut, Phoenix feather, and 9 inches" This had to be her one hundredth wand she tried and still no luck. George had snuck out at least twice already, claiming he had some things to take care of but luckily, Fred still hadn't gotten bored.

"Do you keep count?" she asked him as Mr. Ollivander frowned for a good matter. "Actually, I do..." Fred answered "The next one will be lucky number 63" he said teasingly, having too much of a blast to pass up the opportunity to madden her a bit.

"Oh this is pointless!" Hermione exclaimed after she did try the wand number 63. And even though that Mr Ollivander did look excited by number 40, he had lost his initial rapture by now.

"Even though it pains me to say it, you are right..." he said, frowning even more. "I've never had such a difficult client as you. It would seem that none of the wand's I've ever made…" he didn't finish his thought as he was plunged deep into his mind, ideas whirling right before his eyes. Then out of the blue, the long lost vigour of the old man returned, even though it didn't take long for him to look immensely worried again.

"I wonder…" and with that he disappeared behind those infuriating shelves again, for the fourth time during their visit to the wandmaker's shop.

It didn't take him long to come back and when he did, he was carrying a singular box in his hands. It looked like a Pandora's Box – she had no other name for it. What was normally a black card box was a silver case with black sediments on it from not polishing it enough times. But that wasn't what was so frightening about the box. There were Celtic markings all over it. Markings she had no idea about.

Without opening it he handed her the case and as soon as it touched her hands she felt tingly all over. She knew then, that what was lying inside that box was going to be her wand. _Her _wand. Setting it down on the counter, she unclasped the latch and pulled the lid up. And she fell in love.

Just looking at it, she felt as if it was a wand made especially for her. Running her fingers all over the thin piece of wood, she marvelled at the prickly and exciting feeling she got just from touching it. Mustering up the courage that seemed to have abandoned her throughout this visit, she picked it up from its velvety cushion and gently wrapped her fingers around it.

Closing her eyes at the wondrous feeling she got, she thought she would never get to feel something so unimaginable, so empowering and irresistible ever again. Her toes curled up in her boots and a shiver ran down her spine. An enormous smile appeared on her face as she let herself be consumed by the sense of her magic.

Opening up her eyes, she thought of the only rose she ever managed to conjure and waving her hand in an intricate pattern she pictured it clear as day in her mind. And right before their very eyes, an almost otherworldly rose appeared out of thin air. Its petals were so dark and bright at the same time, the most bloody of reds, its leaves the riches of green and the smell, oh the smell. So sweet and spicy. So very rosy.

Breathing in the aroma of what she had just created she realised she had just done magic. And didn't demolish a thing. A rapturous laugh full of delight and true happiness came from her as she twirled around on the spot.

Fred looked at her pleased that she was smiling for a change and wasn't her usual gloomy self. But one look at the wandmaker made him worried again. Ollivander's expression with which he was looking at the girl in front reeked of fear and Fred couldn't help but wonder why.

Finally coming down from her high Hermione tucked the rose in her hair and looked at the wandmaker inquisitorially, clearly noticing the fear and a tad of curiosity flashing through his eyes.

"May I enquire about the nature of my wand?" she asked him courteously.

It wasn't his **place** to refuse her. Especially not _her_.

"I'm not the maker of this wand as you may have guessed already. It was made approximately two centuries ago by a spouse of an Ollivander. I believe her name was Aletheia. This wand isn't just one wood and one core wand." He explained warily.

"The inner part is made of Ebony with Unicorn heartstring"

Hermione heard Fred's sharp intake of breath as the last word left Ollivander's mouth. Nevertheless, she managed to keep her cool even though her legs started to shake. 'How bad can it get?' Hermione thought. Killing a Unicorn is one of the foulest and bravest acts there is. And the core of her wand is the result of such a murder. 'One of the cores!' she reminded herself and made herself concentrate on what Ollivander started to say.

"I can't tell you much about your wand but I can tell you the general affinity of it. If you've read anything about wandlore you will understand that everything I say is only relative. There is no way for me to precisely say how your new wand is for I am not the maker" and seeing Hermione's understanding nod, he continued.

"Ebony wood is an ambitious piece of wood. It will stay its ground and it will protect you as its new master. It's great for duelling and is almost as powerful as elder wood when it comes to pure unadulterated power.

"Before I continue, I need to ask you a question. And I need only one word from you which will answer it" He said cryptically.

"Do go on" Hermione said politely.

"What is magic?" his question nearly made her suck in all of the air around them. A year ago, Remus Lupin asked her the exactly same question. Not letting herself to go down that road, Hermione focused on what he was really asking her. And already having an inkling on the course of their conversation she said the one word he wished to hear from her

"Intent"

Nodding his head, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "Yes, now let me continue. Unicorn heartstring is a stubborn core, which will do greatly with the ebony wood it's set in. Their disposition makes them work surprisingly well together. They both protect what they see as theirs. Both of them have a strange affinity for duelling and they usually come out victorious. And both of them are highly independent.

"But do not let that fool you. It is a vengeful, ruthless, possessive core. It has its moments when it gets witty, mischievous, and at times downright sinister. Usually, people with Unicorn heartstring aren't known for their overflowing amounts of love. They do possess that ability, but do not give their love just to anyone…"

Hermione was completely immersed in the description of what seemed like one of the most dangerous wands in the world. She didn't know just how close she was to the truth. But it wasn't about the wand being one of the most dangerous beings in the world, it was her who they should fear.

"Unicorn hair is one of the most powerful cores there are and is a much desired dark core in the world."

"Do you want me here?" Fred asked Hermione at hearing that. She looked at him, sad that she could detect the slight distaste in his voice. "I will not make you go away if that's what you think. I also am not what you would call a Dark witch." She said almost reproachfully but immediately saw him relax.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the wandmaker who was giving her an understanding look. "Please continue" she said as she studied the wand clutched in her hand. Its strangely white, almost bone-like colour gave it an eerie look and Hermione couldn't help but wonder what kind of wood that was. 'Why's there a silver handle?' she asked herself

"The ebony wood is wrapped in two Thestral heartstrings. Its dedication, strong-willed, almost headstrong manner goes well with ebony and channels its energy even more. Its cunning, possessive, bordering on obsessive nature is nurtured by firm conviction and coldness. It's fiery, driven, resilient and above all incredibly passionate.

"The whole creation is encased in Yew wood which is bound to the three layers underneath by its determination, power and cunning. It's manipulative, calculating and observant. It is the most powerful among the dark woods, and among us, the wandmakers, it comes third in sheer power after elder and ebony. One of the rarest woods there is, I know only of one that I had managed to craft with it. Life and death, dark and fearsome reputation is that one of a yew wand." He concluded.

Gulping slightly, Hermione asked him "Whose wand is made out of yew wood?"

"Do take a guess Miss Hermione, but don't say his name, not inside my shop"

And in that moment Hermione understood. Lord Voldemort had a wand made of yew. Well, that is an interesting development as she eyed what looked like a harmless piece of wood lying across her palm.

"I see… And what is this for?" she asked him and pointed at what looked like a handle.

"Yew wood is extremely poisonous and the poison may leak from the wood – thus the handle. This one is wrought by the goblins and made especially for Aletheia Ollivander. It should fit your hand perfectly" and indeed it did though Hermione had no idea how that was possible. "It's the most powerful wand that has ever been created." He said, thinking of the Elder wand.

"How much do I owe you?" She asked him, deciding that there probably wasn't anything to be told about her wand anymore.

"You do not owe me anything Miss Hermione, you've already paid for your wand. Let's leave it at that." He looked deep in thought for a while and then added "Do pay a visit to the Gringotts' bank. I believe you should know about who you are" and with that last statement he disappeared back behind his shelves again.

"I need a drink" Fred remarked as he closed the door behind Hermione. "I really need a drink"

* * *

**A/N: I must say I'm incredibly proud at myself for writing such a long and detailed chapter. Thanks to Anna Brelin the wand wood and core stuff wasn't as difficult as I pictured it. How did you like? Please review, i would like to hear your opinion about this one very much. :) thanks for reading!**


	9. Sorrow

**A/N: I loooove your reviews! Those who write their own stories understand how great it is to read that someone really likes your story! So thank you :)**

**Angstar53: You hit the nail on its head with what you wrote about - basically everything. I don't want to give away much, but be sure that Dumbledore's reaction is going to be as you put it - ah - Dumbledore's indeed going to shit a brick :D I won't say anything about Sirius since well, this part is solely about Hermione, but soon enough, the idea of what will come is going to appear. **

**Now without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

_Previously:_

"_You do not owe me anything Miss Hermione, you've already paid for your wand. Let's leave it at that." He looked deep in thought for a while and then added "Do pay a visit to the Gringotts' bank. I believe you should know about who you are" and with that last statement he disappeared back behind his shelves again. _

"_I need a drink" Fred remarked as he closed the door behind Hermione. "I really need a drink"_

* * *

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at that. Even though their world was hurtling into the abyss at the speed of light, she was feeling like she could conquer anything and everything. There was a skip in her step that had never been there. And for once in her life she didn't pay attention to what was going on around her.

She twirled around and around, her open cloak fanning all around her, her hair flying in the soft breeze. If the wizards weren't already used to quirky behaviour they might have locked her up at St. Mungo's.

She looked like a dark fairy right then, shining with inner energy that seemed to push through the mist that descended upon the world. Her joyous laugh filled the hazy Diagon Alley as she danced around the very much freaked out Fred Weasley.

Never before had he seen her act as freely, as spontaneously as she did in that moment. He was still deep in thought from their lengthy visit to Ollivander's this morning and didn't pay much attention to the direction he was going but didn't crash into anybody. When he checked the watch he got from his parents for his and George's seventeen birthday, he found out that it was near lunch. And yet, the Diagon Alley was still empty.

He wasn't surprised, seeing he was already used to the quiet that came from announcing Voldemort's return.

"Why are you so gloomy, Freddie?" Hermione teased him with a huge smile on her face.

"Why are you so cheery?" He couldn't help but snap at her but immediately regretted his Weasley temper when he saw the smile fall off her face.

Fred wasn't a fool and still understood what Ollivander told Hermione about her wand. Those personalities weren't only for the wand but also for its owner. And terrifyingly, they all fit. To the dot.

Hermione didn't know, couldn't understand why he decided to be mean all of a sudden. Was it because of the fact that she was happy when she should be crying her heart out? Was it because she was now in a possession of a wand of its darkest kind? Was that it? He did have his doubts and she wasn't that sure that her simple objection – that she wasn't a dark witch – would diminish all his doubts.

Fred expected her to snap back at him, to behave insulted but no. Instead, she righted up her spine, her eyes becoming a startling shade of dark blue, her lips becoming a thin line.

"I see"

That was all she said to him. Turning on the spot, she marched towards her temporary home, not being sure whether she should stay there any longer.

Exasperated, Fred rushed after her, calling her name but she paid it no head. Swinging the door open, he watched her disappear inside the house.

Nobody noticed the hazel coloured almost amber eyes following the pair, nor the woman with black curly hair hidden by her cloak who was transfixed by the pendant hanging around Hermione's neck.

The man was there because he had a promise to fulfil. It warmed his heart to see that she didn't look as crushed as he had expected to be. But he wasn't happy with what had just occurred in front of his eyes. There was a visit in order, but not now, now he had to rest. With that final thought he went to the Leaky Cauldron, wanting to get out of this godforsaken place as fast as possible.

The woman, on the other hand, was still frozen to the spot, still staring at the door Hermione had just disappear followed by the young Weasley. Even though she swore of her family long ago, she still knew more than enough. How was it possible then that the girl wore a Black family heirloom when she was not a Black? Frowning, she too finally turned around and flooed home.

"Ah, home already?" George asked when he heard the door open.

"Yes, home already." He heard Hermione shout and then shut her door with a bang. Raising his brow in question, he wondered about what his brother had done now.

"Fred?"

"What George?" Fred asked him walking straight towards the liquor cabinet and taking out a bottle of some cheap Firewhiskey.

"Drinking before noon? What would our dear mother say…" George mocked him still having no idea what had just transpired.

"Yes drinking before noon"

"And why?" his twin asked him. The idea of taking care of a drunken Fred wasn't as appealing as when they were fifteen and booze was all they could think about. Booze and well, birds.

Their Firewhiskey wasn't as strong as the stuff that Sirius regularly chucked down at Grimmauld place. However, it was still strong and had the desired effect of mildly calming Fred's nerves. Pouring himself another glass, he plonked down besides George who was sitting on the sofa and writing something in the many papers that were spread in front of him.

"Well?" George pressed his brother who wasn't in much of a forthcoming mood. And so Fred started to explain everything that happened in the shop since he went back home. In the end, George was as white as Fred had been. If it was from surprise, fear or anything else only those two could tell.

On the other side of the apartment was Hermione sitting on her bed in a very, very bad mood. She didn't doubt that Fred would tell his twin exactly what happened and then where would she be?

She knew very well the attitude of a Weasley, any Weasley. All Slytherins are bad, everything that has the prefix dark is dark by default. And once they form their opinion, they wouldn't be swayed.

"Stubborn redheads!" Hermione cursed aloud. She would need to stay here since she had practically no other possibility. But she knew that the coming days would be weird, to put it mildly. And she had been right.

The days following her trip to Ollivander's were awkward to say the least. The twins spend all of their time in their shop, leaving Hermione wonder about the apartment and wallow in her indecision.

She was considering everything that Ollivander told her and so far hadn't reached any valuable conclusion. What did he mean when he said she should find out who she was? Who was Aletheia Ollivander? Why did she choose such a dark wand? The questions were piling up and the answers were nowhere in sight.

It was the evening on the next Monday when she thought she would go crazy. Someone knocked on the of the Weasley apartment and because of its thin doors she was able to hear one of the Weasley boys invite them in. She was still in the safe confinements of her room. It wasn't that she was afraid of the twins. No, that wasn't it. She was fed up with their accusing stares and questioning glances they gave her when they thought she wasn't looking.

So yet again, she plunged herself into the study of Voldemort's tactics and MO. She almost missed the knock on her door. Carelessly waving her wand in the direction of her door, she opened it and went back to her reading.

She didn't care who went in, supposing it was one of the twins. But as soon as the scent of the person standing at her door hit her nose, she instinctively knew who it was, and it wasn't one of the twins.

Ever since her first Animagus transformation a week ago, she began to sleep in her wolf form. Her connection to her Shadow grew stronger and stronger and her human part began to embrace it as well. And a heightened sense of smell was the first thing she had noticed so far.

"Hello Remus" she greeted him, still not taking her eyes of the many copies of newspaper spread on her bed.

"Hello Hermione" he greeted her, still at the door. Noticing the fact as well, Hermione raised her head and beckoned him in. With another flick of her wand, her door was closed and secured against any wondering ears.

"How may I help you Remus?" she asked him as she sat Indian-style on her bed and pointed towards the only chair in her room. Understanding what she meant, he sat down on it and leaned back with a sigh.

"How long have you been cooped up in here?" he asked her in return, avoiding her previous question.

"About a week, if you don't count the days I spent asleep…" she told him with a sigh, twirling her wand in her hand. It became a habit of hers, her paranoia of losing her wand again completely consuming her.

"And do you plan on spending the rest of your summer holidays locked up?" he wondered with a smirk on his face.

"Well, if those two stopped behaving around me like I had dragon-pox… I mean, all I ever did was chose something that they didn't like, actually it isn't my fault that the blasted wand chose me!" Once the words started to pour out of her mouth, she wasn't able to stop them. She craved human contact, someone to talk to and her self-imposed exile to her room certainly didn't help that.

Remus, noticing the way her wand twitched at Hermione's defamatory words, smiled at her sadly. Hermione, being the ever observant her she was, couldn't help but exclaim "See, even you look at me differently!"

"That's not true Hermione!" Remus objected angrily. He wasn't one to be pushed around and he wouldn't stand for Hermione falsely accusing him.

"I don't even know what your wand's made of, so tell me how would I be able to judge you because of it? Don't you think you make too much of big deal out of it? It _is _only a wand!" Remus couldn't help but say.

"Only a wand? How can you say that?" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in anger.

"I say that because of what I see! Hermione, you're still the same person and a different wand doesn't change anything about that." Remus said gently.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked him for the second time that evening.

"I – I got a letter from Gringotts, asking me if by chance I knew a certain Miss Hermione. They don't have your surname." Remus explained but Hermione sensed he was avoiding something.

"There's something you're leaving out. What?" she didn't want to pry, but she was fed up with people always leaving out some important information.

Taking a deep breath Remus said what he desperately tried to avoid "There's going to be a reading of Sirius's will tomorrow and I – I was asked to bring you along."

"What?" was Hermione's only reaction to the news.

"I said – "

"I know what you said" Hermione interrupted him.

There was quiet for a while. The only thing that Remus heard was the beating of their two hearts. He expected her to have a different reaction. The two of them - Sirius and Hermione - had been together since well, since practically the moment Hermione crossed the threshold of Grimmauld place for the first time. Her desperate cries were still etched in his brain from the moment Tonks told her he had died and yet, here she sat on her bed, completely unfazed.

There was something terribly wrong with this image but he couldn't put his finger on it. There was another thing he needed to ask her and then he would be free to wonder about her sense of calm all he wanted.

But she beat him to it.

"There's another thing you needed to ask me otherwise you wouldn't be still sitting here"

She _had_ changed, even though he had claimed otherwise just minutes ago. She had never been this brusque or cold towards him. Where was the Hermione he had known and loved like a brother his younger sister?

"Gone" he thought he heard her whisper but ascribed it to his exhaustion from the full moon just days ago. He must have been hallucinating, that was it…

"Yes, well, Andromeda – she's –"

"I know who she is Remus, but what does she have to do with anything?"

Shaking his head at her, he continued "She asked me about a week ago if you'd like to come live with her" and with that simple sentence, her whole demeanour changed.

"Really?" she asked him with a hopeful smile on her face.

"Really… Frankly, I have no idea how she knows about you" Remus said his incredulity audible in his voice.

And Hermione had no idea either. But she longed to get out of here. And from what Siriu - ehm – from what _he_ told her Andromeda was his favourite cousin and vice versa.

"Would it be – eh – would it be possible to talk to her?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Sure, but probably not today…" Remus remarked, happy that he managed to chase out the gloom out of her eyes.

Hermione laughed at that. Well, of course she wouldn't barge into someone's home at eight in the evening. But then she remember the other reason Remus had come here tonight and quickly sobered up.

"You should pick me up tomorrow" she said quietly and Remus immediately understood what she was talking about.

"That would probably be for the best" he answered sadly.

"What time?" she asked him, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"Nine in the morning…"

'Is it possible for wolfs to cry?' Hermione asked herself that night as she was snuggled under her covers, not being able to fall asleep. Clutching her four legs closer to her body, Shadow couldn't help but whine softly at the missing piece of her heart.

* * *

**A/N: I know, a desperate ending but you need to see that even though Hermione tries to deny it, a bond like the one she had is eternal and you can't just get rid of it. Can I be angry at my 'own' character? (Don't sue me :D, JKR still wrote it) Well, it is possible... **

**Thank you for reading and please REVIEW :)**


	10. Pale Blue Eyes

_Sometimes I feel so happy,_  
_Sometimes I feel so sad._  
_Sometimes I feel so happy,_  
_But mostly you just make me mad._  
_Baby, you just make me mad._

_\- The Velvet Underground_

* * *

_It was a crisp and raw dawn, the sun had yet to appear from behind the horizon. The air was frozen in the air and burned her lungs as she breathed in and out, and yet she didn't feel cold. The hills were covered in mist. A shudder went down her spine as the drops of morning dew upon the friable grass touched the soles of her bare feet. Her silk and feather-light skirt of an almost unearthly dress flied in the gentle morning breeze and chilled her naked legs. _

_She was walking across infinite meadow, nobody in sight. And yet, she felt another presence near her, trailing her across the fields. She heard their feet swishing in the frosty grass. Halting her movements, she waited with baited breath. _

"_Wandering around the country-side, that is new…" a deep voice said from behind her and she screwed her eyes shut, wanting him to stop there, already knowing who was standing right behind her. With all her might she willed him to turn around and leave her alone. _

"_If you really wish me to leave you alone, all you had to do was ask…"_

"_Please go away" Hermione whispered, eyes still shut, her fingers clutching the delicate fabric of her skirt in her hands. _

"_Do you really wish that?" He asked her, his arms encircling her body from behind like a snake until she was firmly pressed against his chest. Her trembling form was so small compared to his large and muscly body. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she shook it telling him no. She didn't wish him to go. _

_Relaxing her fingers she let her dress fly around her in the wind. Getting hold of his hands she intertwined their fingers yearningly. _

_She didn't know how long they stood like that, it could have been minutes, hours – years. She didn't care. She wished she could stay like that forever. The chirping of birds, the sound of a nearby stream was the only thing that could be heard in that serene place, the rising sun right in front of her... His woodsy and leathery smell overwhelmed her senses and for a moment she was lost in place where there was no time that would tear the two of them apart. _

"_This is nice but do we know each other?" the person behind her asked and in a flash she turned around. She was astonished, no, she was bewildered by whom she saw standing in front of her. She would recognise those black locks and stormy grey eyes anywhere. But that wasn't what startled her so. He looked so young, he couldn't have been more than seventeen. _

"_Oh dear Merlin" Hermione breathed, her hands involuntarily flying to her mouth in shock. _

"_You know me! Brilliant, but I don't know YOU!" he said obviously seeing the recognition in her eyes. But all Hermione could do was stare at him in shock. She had to fight the haze in front of her eyes with all her might so she wouldn't faint. _

"_You don't look so good" he remarked getting hold of her arm at her elbow practically dragging her towards a bench that sure as hell wasn't there before. She let herself be pulled to his side still staring at his face, not realising the tears that were gently rolling down the sides of her cheeks. _

"_Why are you crying?" he asked her worriedly and she choked back a whimper, trying not to keep herself from sobbing in earnest. _

"_Did I offend you?" he really didn't know why she was looking at him so much sorrow in her eyes. At that she started to cry even more and he was at a loss to know what to do. He was used to birds throwing themselves at him and he wasn't one to brag (of course he was) but there wasn't many like him. He knew how to make them fall at his feet, knew how to make them scream in throes of passion. There wasn't one like him they always said. _

_One arm already around her shoulders he sneaked the other one under her knees, and pulled her on his lap. The girl who looked like an angel to him clutched herself to him like there was no tomorrow. Rubbing gentle circles on her back, he just let her cry. _

_After what seemed like hours to him she finally stopped and looked up at him with her puffy red eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked her softly, not wanting to upset lest she started to cry again. _

_Not being able to form a coherent answer she just shook her head no and snuggled closer to him, intending to never let go. The gentle rise and fall of his chest had finally managed to calm her down and after a long while she shifted to sit on farther on his lap. _

_Looking up at him, she observed him from her newfound nearness. _

_His face was free of the many scars caused by the war. His eyes weren't haunted like she was used to seeing them, nor were the sides of his neck adorned by the many tattoos he gained during his stay in Azkaban. _

_Her hair which was as dark as his Blackthorn wood wand felt as silk against his hand. Her eyes which were hidden by her long lashes were of the bluest colour. Her skin as soft as a butterfly's wing, as pale as shining moon in the dead of a night. Reaching his hand towards her, he cupped her cheek with his palm._

"_Who are you?" his whispered question carried by the wind._

_The touch of his hand on her cheek was the last thing she remembered before she woke up. _

It was Monday, the eight of July 1996 and Hermione didn't want to get up. She was surprised that she looked at the ceiling above her bed with her human eyes rather than her wolfish ones. Raising her hand she touched her cheek where the Sirius from her dream touched her right before she had woken up.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Yet it felt so real! And he didn't know her! How was it possible he didn't know her when it ought to be a fantasy of her brain? Even her cheeks were damp from crying and when she finally dragged herself out of her bed, she was met by an ugly site of puffy and red eyes, and blotchy cheeks. 'It had to be real!' she told herself.

It was exactly eight o'clock when she stepped out of the shower. Looking at the clock she found out she still had one hour till Remus came. Back in the shower she had realised just why did she change back to her human form.

The constant change back and forth between her human and Animagus part managed push forward those emotions she tucked away and strained the fragile memories. It was all back and Hermione knew she would never be able to do something like that again. It was just another form of denial. Denial, denial, denial.

Smiling was as forced an action as paying attention to Umbridge's blubbering. Her heart was being pierced by shards of ice and she became to regret her previous actions. She should have dealt with what happened earlier and not pushed it away.

She was being consumed by guilt, shame and eternal sadness. She was sure that if she were to face a Dementor in that exact moment, her soul would slip from her without any prompt. Rubbing her face with her prune hands she pulled the free strands of her hair behind her ear.

Drops of ice-cold flowed down her back, her sopping hair tightly wrapped in a towel upon her head. Shuddering in the fresh air in her room she hastily closed the window to her room.

Standing in front of a mirror she loosened up the towel around her head and watched her hair fall freely around her face. Grabbing her wand off the bedside table, she strode back towards the full-length mirror and waving her wand around her hair she made it go dry into gentle curls. Not wanting to deal with it falling into her face all the time she braided it into a peasant braid around her head.

Putting on her usual black jeans and a plain white t-shirt, she looked in her trunk for her favourite oversized dark burgundy sweater. Snuggling into her cloak, she grabbed her leather satchel, put in some of her money and her wand, making a mental note to buy herself a wand holster later and went to the empty kitchen.

The twins were still asleep and she had the whole kitchen to herself. Making herself a cup of tea – they didn't have coffee in here, she spotted yesterday's edition of the Daily Prophet lying on the table.

Her subscription had been only ten months long. Strange, one would think that they would make it for a year but no, that wasn't the case. So she hadn't read any news for a very long time. Reading the first page she realised things were getting too bad too fast.

Chucking down the strong black tea, she made herself another one and started to read the many articles and headlines. The news weren't good, far from it. Madam Amelia Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been murder, as were many others having anything to do with the first resistance ages ago.

It seemed that Voldemort's tactic was to get rid of those with experience and influence so the younger ones would be left to flail around not knowing what to do. The dark mark was seen at least twice since the beginning of summer holidays and people were getting scared. Also, the news from the north weren't all that pleasant. Those Dementors who were supposed to guard the Azkaban were over breeding and as a consequence the weather was starting to get gloomy and misty all over Britain.

Sighing, she put down the newspaper and rubbed her face yet again. There wasn't much time left till it became an all-out war. Checking the time she found out she still had half an hour till Remus came to pick her up. Anxiety began to grip her like a vine and she felt like she would be sick right in that instant. Her stomach felt like tied up in knots and her hands were shaking.

Knowing that a fit of terror will help precisely no-one, she stood up and began to walk around the living room, trying to release the tension from her body.

She didn't want to go to Gringotts and she certainly didn't want to hear Sirius's will. She didn't need another reminder that he was dead. Last time she was in that blasted bank she swore she would never return there again. Nevertheless she had to admit that her conclusions might have been a tad hasty.

It was true that at that time she was ghastly poor and all her money consisted of what the Weasley twins gave her for her help with their inventions. But then she managed to kill those two Deatheaters and the Auror department gave her two thousand Galleons which was an enormous sum for her. She still didn't know how she managed to get over killing those two good-for-nothing wizards.

Her soul was split two times for all she knew and yet she didn't break down as she was supposed to. Her emotions weren't exactly all right right now, nevertheless she was certain that killing someone wasn't such an issue for her, however bad that might sound.

Hearing the distinct knock on the door, she realised she had spent far too much time thinking and overthinking. Taking a deep breath she reassured herself she had everything she needed and went to the door.

"Good morning Remus" she said grimly as she locked the door behind her.

"Morning Hermione, shall we?" he responded, offering her his arm which she gladly took. She needed some kind of anchor that would keep her from falling apart. And so they went, arm in arm towards the Gringotts bank.

* * *

When he woke up from his strange dream, he saw it wasn't even dawn yet. The room was shrouded in a strange violet and grey light coming from the window. He couldn't get rid of the image of the girl from his dream – her hair, her soft skin…

Rubbing his face, he knew there was no chance of going back to sleep. So putting on some tattered jeans and that school cloak of his, he grabbed his broom and carefully, as not to wake his room-mates, he sneaked out of their dorm.

'Who are you?' he couldn't help but ask himself as he was cruising in the air at the speed of light.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry it took me so long but I had - well - a phase... And I couldn't make my brain think about my story. But here's another chapter, a mysterious one. What do you think happened? What do you think will happen? **

**As always, thank you so much for reading and please REVIEW! **


	11. Made Aware

Andromeda Tonks was having her morning cup of tea when her morning drowsiness was interrupted by two distinguished looking black birds flying through her window. The pair of them sat down right in front of her, miraculously avoiding the steaming cup of black tea in front of them.

There were two missives attached to their feet, one with the majestic black and grey feathered owl and one with the black silky plumaged raven. With deft fingers used to disentangling the strings with which most of the letters were attached to the owls' legs, she undid the tiny knots and got hold of the letters.

Once the birds felt like they accomplished the task of stealing some of Mrs Tonks' breakfast, both of them flew out the window again and disappeared in the clouds. She was left with two heave envelopes sitting on her dining table and chewed on her bottom lip, wondering with which one she should begin.

Turning them over, she observed the different seals that adorned the expensive parchment. One the one brought to her by the owl, there was the distinct seal on dark blue wax- the seal belonging to the Gringotts bank and her eyebrows rose in surprise. It had been a long time since she had any dealings with the goblins that would require any correspondence. Deciding to leave the other letter be for now, she cracked the seal and pulled out an official looking scroll.

Furrowing her brow, she started to read.

_To Mrs Andromeda Druella Tonks née Black_

_Please take notice that you are hereby summoned to appear in the action of Reading the Last Will and Testament of Sirius Orion Black, deceased 18__th__ June of this year. This action will take place in a week's time, on the eight of July at precisely 9:15 a. m. in the Gringotts Wizarding Bank in Diagon Alley. _

_You are hereby notified that should you fail to appear, you will not be informed of any decisions made based on Mr Black's last words nor will you have any further option to preview our client's Last Will and Testament shouldn't it be stated in the aforementioned Will otherwise. The Gringotts bank has been alerted that you have received and read this notice and will therefore file away that you have been made aware of said action of reading Mr Black's Last Will and Testament._

_Budoc,  
The executor of Sirius Orion Black's Last Will and Testament  
Gringotts Wizarding Bank_

Andromeda's eyes got huge with surprise and disbelief the further she got with this official summon. Unwanted moisture managed to gather itself in the corners of her eyes and she hastily swept away whatever didn't manage to fall down her cheeks.

She had been very distraught when she got the news of her cousin's death from her daughter. She refused to hear any details, knowing full well that her favourite family member didn't go down without a fight. She was afraid to hear who or what was responsible for his death since she knew that there were only so many people able to best him, her sister Bellatrix being one of them.

Whenever those two met it always ended with a duel and Sirius had never come out the winner. Rubbing her face with her tender palms, she put the letter down, already knowing she would go to the Reading. She was too much interested in hearing why she had to be present, not for personal gain, it was more to hear the too obvious foolhardy Will of her beloved cousin and his marauder ideas.

Also, she needed to see the proof that Sirius did something responsible for once in his life. From what she gathered through her daughter, he was obsessed with the notion of protecting his godson Harry Potter and was confined to the terrible place the Black's used to call home. Firstly, she didn't know how he managed to escape the clutches of one Albus Dumbledore to even create a Will and secondly, why did he need to create such a document seeing he had no children himself and everything would go to his godson by default?

With such questions cruising through her mind she grabbed the second letter lying on the table. This one was sealed with a seal she hadn't seen in years, in more than sixteen years to be precise. Her fingers began to shake but she pushed through her sudden nervousness and anxiety. Pulling out the long piece of parchment out of the envelope, she began to read.

_Dear Andy,_

_You pranked me and I never, ever let anyone prank _me_ without getting back at them for it. I still remember how you made my hair go sleazy for a week! A week! It was my hair! You should never touch my hair, you know that! _

_Unfortunately, if you're reading this letter, it is neither a prank nor a joke or payback and I am dead. Truly dead, as in ten feet under dead. I sure hope I went down kicking like the petulant child I always tried to be. Don't be sad, Andy. That is the nature of war and I know I could always be immature with you. So don't ponder and yonder Andy, and celebrate that you managed to outlive me. _

_It may seem to you as if I didn't take my life seriously, that I joke about my death but believe me, I feel anything but. I think I may presume you know all about my confinement to Grimmauld place and knowing my utter hate towards that place, you can surely understand that it is only a question of time till I do something incredible stupid. _

_The thing is, I can't allow myself to do anything stupid. _

_You know about my godson Harry. He needs me though I'm not sure I'm much of a godfather to him. But you see, I'm not able to. Looking at him, all I see is James and it will be that way forever and ever. The guilt Andy, the guilt is eating me up alive and there are days I spent in a constant state of oblivion. _

_Nevertheless I know that Harry will be able to pull through without me. He has Moony, he has practically everyone and there isn't anyone who would deny him a thing. He had suffered so much though and I worry that there will come a time when he won't be able to just move on. Though I have to believe that he will be able to pull through. _

_I have conscience. Incredible. You know beating around the bush really isn't my thing so I should go straight to the point. I'm sure you have better things to do than reading letters from your dead cousin so I will bother you only for a moment longer._

_There's a girl. A woman. Her name is Hermione though I cannot tell you her surname since even she doesn't know it. Yet. She's the most important person in my life and nobody, not even Harry can replace her place in my heart. You may wonder what happened to me… falling in love with somebody who's at least ten years younger than me… But there's no way I can explain how or why or what exactly happened. _

_It did and my biggest fear is leaving her behind knowing that she won't be able to go on living. Do I sound selfish? Presumptuous? I trust you that you will not spread this knowledge and keep yet another one of my secrets. I don't know if she knows, but knowing her brilliant mind she already does. We, Hermione and I, share a natural bond. You may have thought me oblivious to the knowledge of magic but with nothing to do I was eventually able to read my way through most of the Black library. And I discovered what I discovered. I'm not sure how it happened but we have a bond. You and I, we both know what happens when one of the bonded dies. _

_If I know her, and I do, I am certain that she will try to hide it, she will try to stuff it all in the back of her mind but we both know that is impossible. She will be concentrating on defeating the monster Voldemort and being there for Harry be it a shoulder to cry on or a person to shout at. _

_She is a peculiar witch, I have never met anyone like her and never will. Magic is a part of her and she'll always be loyal to what it tells her. She doesn't trust easily, I should say she doesn't trust anyone at all. But once you gain her respect and trust, you will not find a more loyal friend. _

_Please take care of her for me. She's the One Andy and I'm leaving her here alone forever. There's no way back from death. There never will be. But I pray, I pray like I have never before that I don't die. That I keep my promise to her. That I will never leave her here alone. _

_But seeing you're reading this letter, I already did. Please take care of Hermione, please take care of my Shadow. _

_Sirius_

_P.S.: Payback is a bitch_

Rushing to a mirror she saw her hair change from its rich black to fluorescent pink. Laughing a watery laugh, she slumped down on a chair by the table. Taking a deep breath, she read the letter again but still came up with nothing.

Her cousin had changed, there was no question about that. She completely understood his worries about Harry, she felt the same about her daughter and realised that Sirius had to feel like a surrogate father to his godson. But who was this mysterious Hermione that managed to capture the unreachable ice-cold heart of her favourite cousin.

Knowing there was basically only one person in the whole world that would know what had been going on between those two she penned down a short message to Remus Lupin and sent it with her faithful owl Onyx.

It was evening already and Andromeda's mind was whirling with questions but outwardly, she appeared calm and collected. She was still a Slytherin and even though she wasn't fond of her family, some things were still ingrained in her bones. A tentative knock on the door interrupted her musings and she went to the only window that oversaw their entrance door.

Her husband Ted Tonks wouldn't be home for another two weeks so she was all alone with their daughter who still lived with them. And seeing that Nymphadora was still at work and usually used the floo to get home, the only person who could be knocking on the door was Remus. Pulling the curtains aside for a bit, she saw that indeed, Remus was waiting at her door.

"Good evening" Remus greeted her politely as he stepped inside. They went to the kitchen and Andromeda offered him some refreshments though Remus refused the offered and settled only on a cup of tea.

"I came as soon as I could. What is it that you needed my help with?" Remus asked her after he took a careful sip from his cup of steaming hot tea.

"You and my cousin, you were rather close to each other, weren't you?" Andromeda asked him minding to omit saying Sirius's name. She was aware of just how close the Marauders were and didn't want to cause the last one of them any more pain. And even though this conversation felt more than necessary to her, she resolved to make it the least nerve-wracking and painful for the poor man.

"Yes, though I fail to see where you're going with this..." Remus said quietly, averting his eyes and concentrating his gaze on the curtains drawn over the window.

"Who is this Hermione?" Mrs Tonks asked the werewolf, waving her hand around noncommittally.

Remus, confused at why she was asking questions about Hermione answered curtly "She's a schoolmate of Harry's." He didn't elaborate his statement furthered though he could clearly see that Andromeda wasn't very much content with his answer.

"And you know her how?" she questioned him further. Her features were hard as always and Remus could clearly see that the Black family had left her mark upon her as well.

Seeing that he wasn't one to talk, she decided to try a different tactics and be completely straightforward with him.

"Remus, I was asked to take care of the girl and I need to know who she is, do I not?" she vaguely referred to the letter that was etched to her mind.

"Asked?" now he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"Yes asked, now is she a sensible one? I do hope she isn't one to mindlessly rush into things…" Andromeda said talking about her taking care Hermione as a fait accompli.

Remus's incredulity must have shown on his face "Don't look at me like that Remus. Of course I've already decided that I will take care of her. The only thing I need is to gather some information about her and of course for you to arrange a meeting but that should be all…" she said, her eyes shining with an unknown emotion.

He just sat there, pondering what to tell her when he finally understood what was going on. There was only one way for her to find out about Hermione and suddenly decide she would come live with them.

"What did he write to you?" He asked her straight on.

"Enough for me to decide that she must be very special. Now, will you tell me who she is? Really…?"

Sighing, Remus stirred his tea with a small spoon and observed as it the liquid flowed round and round. Not looking up, he started to tell her what she wanted to hear.

"Hermione, she's a peculiar witch. Powerful, frighteningly clever – not that she flaunts her knowledge, fiery but cold… Usually, she keeps you at an arm's length but Si- " he swallowed down the bile at the back of his throat and went silent for a while.

"Sirius, he managed to get close to her. Though after what the two went through together I don't wonder…" Remus got a distant look in his eyes and Andromeda couldn't help but ask "What the two of them went through?"

"It isn't my story to tell… They were both very cautious with what side of them they showed the world but never to one another and they very much together. She is older than your usual sixth year though I don't know by how much. I better not say more. You should get to know her yourself rather than through me…."

The both of them were quiet for a while, the only sound audible was Remus's occasional sipping on his tea.

"Will you be at the Reading next week?" she asked him.

"Y – yes…" Remus answered if a little bit surprised that she would bring it up.

Sensing the state of his mind, she added "I know how you feel Remus, believe me when I say that it hasn't left me unfazed that he fell. But I can't let it consume me and neither can you."

Her solemn words accompanied him throughout the week and on his visit to see Hermione. He was glad that she seemed as eager to meet Andy as Andy was to meet her and hoped with all his heart that Hermione hadn't succumbed to some kind of hidden state of permanent depression.

And so, with Hermione clutching his arm, he went towards the Gringotts bank, the both of them feeling like prisoners to be hanged. Anxiety hung around them like curtains of the thickest and heaviest fog and he was sure you could cut the dread around the woman standing next to him with a knife.

"We're here at the invitation of Master Budoc" Remus said to the goblin teller. Werewolves were one of the only creatures not afraid of goblins. Something that got to the with the natural circle of things or some other balderdash.

"Follow me" said the goblin and they did, though Hermione who had by now let go of his arm, stayed behind for a bit. She didn't feel very comfortable being led by some goblin through the maze that was the Gringotts bank. Nevertheless she trusted Remus and was more than certain that she would be able to take care of herself if push came to shove.

"Wait here" the old, sturdy looking goblin announced and pushed them into some room or other. They were still looking at the door they just came through both of them upset by the rude behaviour of the goblin, not that Remus expected anything other from the threateningly looking creature. Because of their momentarily state of incredulity, they didn't notice that there were other three people in the room with them.

That is until a familiar grand-fatherly tone reached their ears.

"And what are you doing here Miss Granger, if I may ask?"

Hermione slowly turned around at hearing the voice, her eyes full of pent up contempt she felt towards the old man.

Tilting her head airily in an aristocratic fashion, she said haughtily "Wouldn't you like to know… Headmaster"

* * *

**A/N: I know, you want to kill me :D another chapter and I still don't want to show you the juicy stuff. But hang on, next chapter will be the reading of the Will, Dumbledore's reaction and of course, who are the other two people? Take a guess and write me a review! **

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW! **


	12. I, Sirius Orion Black III

_Previously:_

"_And what are you doing here Miss Granger, if I may ask?"_

_Hermione slowly turned around at hearing the voice, her eyes full of pent up contempt she felt towards the old man._

_Tilting her head airily in an aristocratic fashion, she said haughtily "Wouldn't you like to know… Headmaster"_

* * *

She measured him with her cold stare that sent shivers down his spine. 'What had happened to the girl that skipped down the Hogwarts' corridors like an innocent child?' he asked himself as he stared into her icy, almost grey eyes which looked at him like the stormiest clouds on earth. They told him to tread carefully... Not that he paid any attention to what his gut pushed him towards.

No, he was much more of a supercilious and contemptuous kind of man and didn't trust his instincts. He did trust them once – with Grindelwald and look how that had turned out. So why should he pay attention to such a superfluous thing as his inner instinct? He always minded what his manipulative mind told him, and it wouldn't fail him now.

So in the same manner in which he had just greeted her, he responded to her unworthy retort thinking that he would slowly stir her to his way of seeing things. It was just as if he had forgotten all that he had ever known about the witch called Hermione Granger. Forgetting he had ever admitted his failings to her, conveniently suppressing the memory of every time he had spoken to her, he said: "Miss Granger, I demand that you not use such a tone with me. I am you Headmaster and as such I demand natural authority"

If he had awaited a heated response stemming from what he supposed was her ingrained Gryffindor impulsiveness and pride, he was very much mistaken. Her face retained its cold and almost sneering expression and didn't change one bit. She acted as if he weren't there and though she was looking straight into his eyes, it seemed to him that all she saw was a light barrier of dust.

His whole body felt as if it was slowly being drowned in a chokingly cold melted steel, both burning hot and freezingly icy. And yet, all there was to the scene were the two of staring into each other's eyes for a mere second.

Her persona looked very distinguished, not minding the common clothes that peeked through the opening of her beloved cloak. Her aura emitted such power and sense of awe that it made even the almighty Dumbledore cover in fear. The Headmaster wasn't able to guess how it was possible that such a chit that was always following Harry Potter like a stray dog was able to command the room the way she just did.

Remus, who was observing the encounter with a wary eye, realised that even though they all thought the Headmaster of Hogwarts to be an omniscient wizard, he knew absolutely nothing about Hermione – which was clear from the small confrontation that just played out in front of his very eyes.

What none of them knew was that Dumbledore was here to acquire a substantial fortune that he would simply love to use for the so-called funding of the Order. But what seemed like an honourable cause was really just a smokescreen for his many trifling projects he oversaw.

Their staring contest was interrupted by the grumbling of yet another goblin.

"Master Budoc will receive you now" the goblin announced crossly from behind an enormous scroll, his eyes darting across the parchment as if he was checking something. Perusing the small group of five with his threating and ever-measuring eyes, he realised that there were one too many.

"Only Mr Remus John Lupin and Harry James Potter, scion of House Potter, Mrs Narcissa Verina Malfoy and Andromeda Aludra Tonks and Miss Hermione are allowed to be present at the Reading of the Last Will and Testament of one Sirius Black" he said looking accusingly at Dumbledore who was already prepared to clarify that he should be present when the door opened again and an angry looking goblin with an entourage of another three heavily armed creatures entered the room.

It was getting crowded in there. Hermione, who had been concentrating solely on the Headmaster that was standing in front of her realised only now that she should have noticed the other two women in the room.

They looked remarkably similar and yet different. They both seemed of some age already though they had managed to retain their natural beauty. She, who seemed to be the older one of the pair, had dark curly hair arranged in a very loose bun on one side of her head. Her robes looked like they haven't been worn for a long time - what once could have been a rich dark green was now only a rehash of its former shine.

The other woman, though, looked much more distinguished than the former. Her hair had the most peculiar colouring, somewhat similar to her own. Half of her head was the darkest shade of black while the other glistened with platinum blonde. If she hadn't seen her already with her husband and son, Hermione would have had trouble with guessing in whose presence she currently was. This had to be Mrs Malfoy. Which automatically led to her realisation that the other woman was Mrs Tonks. Mrs Andromeda Tonks. The Black sisters, her mind added almost instantly.

All of this assessment took her only a couple of seconds and even though she was more than looking forward to officially meeting the woman that offered to take her in, she had to first know what would happen to their obnoxious Headmaster.

He looked mildly terrified by the sight of the armed goblins though he wouldn't let himself be deterred. "I assure you, Master goblin" he said with as much respect as he could muster "That I am here in the place of Mister Harry Potter who as you already mentioned is to be let in to the Reading"

He already fancied himself to having outwitted the goblin. However he didn't count with the fact that those goblins responsible for guarding the treasures of their most distinguished and loyal customers followed their orders to the dot.

"And I assure you that were your name mentioned in any part of the will or your presence specifically requested by Mister Black, you would have been let in. Alas, it is not" the goblin said with glee literally shining through his eyes.

"I'm Mister Potter's magical guardian!" Albus Dumbledore said much louder than was needed which earned him a nasty scowl from the goblin who was still bitterly denying him entry into the 'Reading room' as the Gringotts decided on calling the room where the Wills were read.

A mad smile formed on the small man's face, showing his gleaming, almost golden teeth. "As you very well know the laws of your Ministry do not apply on goblin territory and Gringotts Wizarding Bank _is_ goblin ground." And with that he waved his hand towards the armed entourage and turned his attention towards the other occupants of the room.

They all ignored Dumbledore's seething as he was led out being prodded by the sharp spears of the three goblins. And thus yet another one of Dumbledore's schemes crumbled down like a house of cards.

As soon as the door closed behind one Albus Dumbledore, the whole demeanour of the goblin standing in front of them changed. He straightened up to his full height of four feet. His chest puffing up he announced in his deep scratchy voice: "If you would all go through this door, Master Budoc will be with you shortly."

With that a door to his right opened with a loud thud. Nobody from the small group of four seemed hell bent on making small talk so they quietly went through the door, each of them taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of a huge table.

From what Hermione observed in the short time she spent in the company of the Black women, there seemed to be quite the hostility between them and it didn't take her long to guess why. If Narcissa Malfoy was like the rest of her crazy family, she would have never forgotten Andy for marrying a muggleborn wizard. And Andy, being the proud Black she surely was, would never consider begging her sister or family to take her back. Oh how she adored family matters, Hermione thought sarcastically and turned her attention towards the room she was sitting in.

It was a rather large chamber inlaid with dark stone, with a huge sturdy wooden table as a centrepiece. There weren't any scrolls or leftover parchment laying around. Instead, the table was completely empty, only a high leather chair was visible from behind it. A grand crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and illuminated the room with dark yellow light. And even though the room was very bare and scarcely decorated, it was strangely comfortable.

There seemed to be a sense of anticipation in the air and Hermione realised that she had managed to get caught up in the moment enough to forget what had happened in the last few weeks. Not completely, that would never be possible, but enough for her to think with a much needed calm.

She got this feeling she couldn't really describe. As if a blank page was offered to her and it was only her and a pen that would need to come to an agreement. It didn't matter what she wrote, there was just this creamy white blank page staring at her invitingly, terrifyingly.

Hermione knew, felt it in her bones that whatever would be said in the next few hours would be detrimental to her future. How she knew she didn't know.

There was a part of her that hated herself for anticipating anything. She should be detesting the very place and yet, she wanted to hear what the goblins had to say. Was it bad, was it immoral, selfish to want to hear why she was called to be at the Reading?

The four of them didn't have to wait long for another goblin to appear. They all were hoping that this was the last one, that this was Master Budoc they all have been awaiting. And from his clothes, you could clearly see that he was the one in question.

His traditional goblin clothing was made of the richest of burgundy fabric with a heavy black robe over it. His crooked fingers were adorned with many golden rings set with the most precious stones Hermione had ever seen. His robe bore the usual Gringotts crest and around his belly, there was a sturdy looking belt with a dangerous looking sword hanging from it.

Not looking for any sign of welcome coming from their side, he sat down on the large chair with gruff and put a strangely looking object on the wooden table. No introduction, no nothing. The goblin didn't even acknowledge the presence of those three witches and a wizard. Instead, he put a thick leather folder on the desk in front of him and turned his attention towards the strange device in the middle of the table.

The table, seemingly made solely for this purpose, anchored the object to its wooden desk and the occupants of the room got their chance to study what it really was. It looked like two six inch sticks of iron bound together by silver thread, pulsating with some strange plasmatic energy. The already dark room suddenly lit up with silver-green light and an eerily familiar voice reached their ears.

"I, Sirius Orion Black III, head of the House Black, hereby declare that this is my Last Will and Testament and I hereby revoke, cancel and annul all wills and codicils previously made by me or for me. I declare that I am of sound mind and that this Last Will and Testament expresses my wishes without undue influence or duress."

Hermione couldn't breathe and if Remus didn't catch her hand she would have surely run out of the room by now. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to hear his scruffy deep voice nor was she ready to hear his will. Moments ago, she might have thought this was the right thing to do and though she still did, it didn't mean that it wasn't tearing her heart out of her chest. For once in her life she didn't want to know how it was possible for the goblins to have a sound record nor did she question Sirius formal tone. She just wanted to get it over and done with.

But the device wouldn't listen to her silent wishes and went on replaying what the goblins must have heard million times before.

"I hereby appoint Master Budoc, the account manager of the Black family vaults as the Executor of my Will and grant him all powers and authority as are required by the goblin inheritance law. Also, I grant my Executor full and absolute power in the dealings of my last will and testament.

"I give a total sum of 100.000 Galleons to Remus John Lupin."

Remus looked positively bewildered by what he had just heard. It was an enormous amount of money. His best friend must have been dropped on his head as a child – a feat that was very much possible considering the family he grew up in. What was he to do with it? His question was answered just a moment later.

"Remus, do buy yourself a nice pair of robes and a house, would you? Also, go and marry her or I will come haunt till the end of your days, which is a very, very long time."

A small, yet sad smile appeared on the werewolf's face and Hermione, forgetting for a moment what was going on, felt her eyes sparkle with mischievousness at the thought of her ex-professor and the Metamorphagus Auror together. It seemed that even Andromeda knew about what was going on between her daughter and Remus because when Hermione saw her glancing at the wizard she saw that particular fondness that only came from suspecting a possible relationship of your daughter.

"Upon reaching this point, Narcissa Verina Malfoy is to receive a letter adressed to her and is to be lead out of the Reading."

Hermione furrowed her brow as the goblin reached into the heavy looking leather folder and pulled out a thin envelope with the Black family crest on it. Narcissa, already knowing there was no arguing with the goblins stood up and took the letter from the much despised creature.

Her face didn't show any emotion, not anger, not vicious, nor coldness. It was just blank. But before she exited the room, she cast one glance at the girl that was sitting next to the werewolf. She recognised her from seeing her in Diagon Alley the other day.

There wasn't much Narcissa knew about the girl - only that her name was Hermione and that she carried a Black family heirloom. But who was she really? Never in her life had she seen something like the confrontation between this young lady and Albus Dumbledore. The whole thing was very much perplexing and she would need to talk to her son about it. But not now, now, Draco had enough to worry about. With that last anxious thought, she exited the Reading and never looked back.

"Andromeda Tonks is to be reinstated on the Black family and is to be given a total sum of 50,000 Galleons."

The older witch didn't look surprised at all, though her reaction was a mile away from what Hermione had expected. She looked amused, as if this whole thing was one grand entertainment. And unwttingly, Hermione's opinion of Andy went down like Titanic upon hitting the fateful iceberg.

"Now don't be angry with me - I figured there needed to be some compensation for all the pink hair I've caused you. I believe your daughter got an unhealthy obsession with it because of me. Oh, and beat some sense into the old mutt for me, would you?"

Desensitised by hearing his voice for the last half hour, she was able to withstand his Marauder-ness even from behind the grave. Her heart gave a slight, not slight, an almost overpowering pang. The ever present bile at the back of her neck became even more pronounced and she had to bite the insides of her cheeks to distract herself from her overwhelming emotions.

"My godson, Harry James Potter is to receive my entire interest in the real property which was the Black manor at an undisclosed address he is aware of and the Black Island in the Caribbean. Furthermore, he will receive the entire content of my personal vault at Gringotts which at the formation of this Will contained 1.050.000 Galleons. I also give him my entire interest in personal items to be found at Black manor."

That… wasn't expected. Andromeda asked herself what would happen to the rest of his property – that is to the entire Black fortune. There was this slight nagging at the back of her head that told her what would happen to it all, that tiny voice that whispered into her ear that there had to be a reason for Hermione being there. And her supposition was confirmed with her cousin's next words.

"The rest of my entire property I was in possession as the head of House Black will fall to Hermione, reachable through Remus John Lupin. Not depending on her presence at the Reading of this Will, she will receive a letter left with Master Budoc. Also, an inheritance test is to be paid for her from the Black account and carried out the day of this Reading. All Black accounts, shares and stakes in any and all business and the title as the Head of House Black will from now one belong to Hermione"

Two heads turned to look at her, nothing but surprise evident in their eyes. Hermione was still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened and didn't pay it any attention. Right now, she was probably one of the richest people in their world. She didn't understand - didn't understand why he gave it all to her when it should have been Harry who received all of his property. She didn't feel worthy of such a bequest.

One minute she was poor, with only a two thousand Galleons altogether to get by and now she was in the possession of millions?

Shaking her head in disbelief, she almost didn't notice the letter that was being handed to her. Remus nudged her from her side with a kind smile on his face and finally snapping out of her confusion she grabbed the envelope from the goblin's hands.

The envelope felt like it weighed a ton in her shaking palms. Putting her head in her hands, she sighed deeply.

"On this day, the 17th of June, 1996 I declare my Last Will and Testament valid and required to execute within thirty days after my death"

Death. That was the last word they heard from their Sirius. No joke, no lightening of situation. The fateful word hung in the air around them like an echo in an endless cave. To Hermione, it felt like the Grim Reaper was mocking her, whispering in her ear, luring her into her real of the Dead.

She noticed a slight pat upon her shoulder but she still didn't raise her head. Her body was being cocooned by her magic as a child by its mother's womb.

* * *

**A/N: A mysterious ending. I don't want to comment it anymore because I see myself spoiling it to you. So write me your opinion. Make your own conclusions... In the next chapter, there will be some great revelations so stay tuned.**

**Please REVIEW! :)**


	13. Hermionë

**A/N: I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to post this chapter but I was stuck with it for a bit... Nevertheless here it si don't let me keep you from reading!**

* * *

There were only two of them left in the Reading chamber – Hermione and Master Goblin. Strangely enough, he didn't press her to speak. She wasn't panicking nor was she hyperventilating or showing any signs of anxiety. However on the inside, her mind was in the biggest turmoil.

She didn't question her new status as the Head of House Black. That was about the only thing she had accepted without a question – mainly because the Goblins had accepted it and it was written in a valid legal document. What she couldn't understand was why Sirius had decided to make _her_ the Head of House.

'It isn't such an important position' she told herself but immediately took it back. To be a Head of House was always an important position even though her 'new family' had only about five members expect her and none of them carried the Black surname. There was Narcissa Malfoy and her son Draco, then there was Andromeda with Nymphadora and lastly there was the insane Bellatrix and that was about it.

There was a slight possibility, scratch that, a huge possibility that all answers to her questions would be revealed in the letter she still held in her hands. But then again, she had absolutely no desire to read the dead man's words.

'Yes, I'm a coward' she scoffed at herself and put the letter into her satchel. Her lips formed in a thin line, she turned to look at the goblin who was observing her like a hawk.

"Is there any business I need to attend to?" she asked him in a flat voice.

In the beginning, Hermione was surprised by the calmness of the goblin but soon found a reason for his composure. As the account manager for the Black family Master Budoc had surely seen a lot of strange happenings and unusual machinations and a meek girl (there was no other way to describe her current behaviour) wouldn't be able to astonish the ancient accountant.

"Yes" he answered shortly and paused for a second. "There's the matter of the inheritance test as per request of Mr Black. As your family's account manager, I would strongly suggest you accede to his wishes." Master Budoc said as he stroked his pronounced beard.

There was something shrewd and calculating in his gaze and Hermione suddenly understood why Goblins were so gifted in the gathering of any acquirable wealth. They saw the innumerable variables as clear as one sees black on white.

They always acted in a way that would bring them most profit and being a bloodthirsty nation of Goblins, they didn't care about being inhumane or inconsiderate of their customers. Wizards and Witches from all over the world came to them to guard and proliferate their gold. And that was what they were exceptionally good at.

Even Hermione saw the possibility of a hypothetical safety from the crazed maniac named Lord Voldemort through her newly acquired position. A promise of possible allies that would listen only to the Black family name. She could be free from the clutches of the more or less useless Order of the Phoenix.

She knew she was being cynical – she always was. But she had lived down the fact that people saw her only as the supposed brightest witch of her age that spent all of her free time in the library, disapproving of anyone who even thought of breaking the rules. It was about time for her to take the matters into her own hands and with that decision made she curtly nodded her head in consent.

The goblin's eyes sparkled at her and unwittingly, her own eyes showed a little bit of that astute she hid behind her books.

"How long will it take?" she asked him still sitting on the rather comfortable chair. Her back straight, head slightly tilted to the side and her hands rolling around her wand – not as a weapon, but rather as a reassurance. She looked the epitome of the most powerful witch.

"There is no given time, Miss. It all depends on the willingness of your… blood" he said not at all perturbed by the medievalness of his statement.

"I see" was her only answer. There was precisely nothing you could learn about the Gringotts Inheritance test in books so she would need to trust the small creatures, not that she was any happy about it.

"Please follow me" the goblin told her as he stood up from his chair. With a wave of his hand he opened the door he came through earlier and Hermione followed him through another set of doors. From the slight descent of the tiled floor she understood they were going deeper into the building. Many steps and turns further, they finally stopped at a lookalike of muggle vault door.

Budoc ran his hand in a circle upon the large spoked silver handwheel. She marvelled at its clicking and tinkling as it slowly, very slowly creaked open. The vault door was at least a foot thick with a number of retracted locking bolts and reinforced with some kind of copper-ish metal.

As the heave door turned on its hinges, the air began to shiver with heat. Even though Hermione didn't feel difference in temperature, she felt as the hot air slipped under her cloak and caressed her neck, the only piece of her skin that was left bare.

The room that was heavily guarded by the massive door was huge. It looked like a large dungeon hall. Small reddish bricks held the ceiling in place and created fake pillars and arches on each side of the chamber. There were torches illuminating the room and Hermione had to supress the shudder evoked by the eeriness of this place.

But the most intriguing thing was the large panel of sheer, light pink stone with a tinge of orange as it was being hit by the flickering light. It was hanging in the air without any support, so thin that Hermione feared it would shatter and break were she just to touch it with the tips of her fingers.

"Pure melted crystals of morganite, cleansed from all magic" Master Budoc enlightened Hermione pointing towards the panel in the middle of the room.

She watched with fascination as the precious stone bubbled from time to time. She could see the air trembling from the heat the panel of stone seemed to emit.

With a wave of his hand, the goblin froze the material and Hermione felt the chamber lose its original heat. In a matter of seconds it was in solid again, becoming even more lightly coloured then before.

"The first step is rather easy. Do you know the rune for blood?" Master Budoc asked her while he opened a small case holding an assortment of daggers.

"Yes" Hermione answered slightly unnerved by the sight of the sharp, menacingly looking knives.

"Draw it on your arm with your wand if you please" Budoc commanded her.

So Hermione rolled up her left sleeve and with her wand, she gently skimmed her flesh drawing the desired rune. She felt her blood rush under her skin, dark purple veins forming the desired symbol.

Seeing she was done, Master Budoc got hold of her left arm, gripping it tightly. As soon as his wrinkly old hand touched her skin, the rune she had just drawn began to glow with dark, almost black light.

"Forgive me, Miss" the goblin said but Hermione heard no real sincerity or sympathy in his voice. It all happened so fast that she didn't even manage to notice what the goblin was about to do. Gripping her arm in one hand, a dagger in another, he buried the tip of the sharp knife in her soft flesh.

Hermione let out a shriek, a mix of surprise and pain and tried to wriggle her arm out of the goblin's hand.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" she shrieked at him but the creature standing in front of her was far stronger than she had anticipated. If anything, he clutched her hand even more, his long dirty nails digging into the sides of her arms.

She felt as the dagger sucked on her blood and magic, feasting on her very essence. Finally, after a couple of excruciating seconds, Budoc let go of her arm which she immediately cradled to her body. Glaring menacing at the goblin she ran her hand over the raw wound which didn't leak any blood even though it was still fresh. Healing it as she had done many times before, she was glad to see that there was no scar left.

There was no doubt as to why the wizarding race didn't hold the goblins in any kind of fondness. A lot of questions about the goblins had been answered today and Hermione couldn't find it in herself to be particularly lenient and kind towards the goblins. They were nasty creatures – that was for sure.

Master Budoc didn't seem the least fazed by her nasty glare and turned his back on her, facing the large morganite panel. He didn't seem to pay attention to her as he started to incise strange symbols into the precious stone. They were neither runes nor any old letters. As soon as they were written, the path created with her blood and magic got pulled into the panel rippling the solid stone as Hermione's magic spread all over the stone.

The stone glowed with different colours until it settled on a snowy white. Hermione would have reached out and caressed the surface of the morganite were it not for the goblin who stood in front of the panel as if protecting it from her.

Not really being in the mood to question the rude goblin, Hermione just stood there, waiting for something, anything to happen. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long.

Her blood which was previously soaked in the stone bubbled back to the surface, covering it with a web of tiny drops and strings. Then it began to reassemble itself, moving all across the panel until it began to form letters, words.

At the top, there was a strange and very intricate coat of arms. The background was formed by the Celtic trinity symbol with a purple shield atop it. In the middle, there was a snow white dove flying above two crossed wands. From both sides it was supported by unicorns standing on their hind legs. The mantling consisted of dark green and blue drapery that coiled around the shield like ivy. It was so detailed, shining with its true colours. The symbols on it were ancient, words written in olde Gaelic which Hermione couldn't understand.

However it was the names that interested her the most. But the goblin wouldn't let her come closer, he was frozen in place, staring at what was shown right in front of his beady eyes.

The creature in front of her began to shake and went terribly pale. Even in the bad light in this chamber Hermione was able to notice the change. She was just about to ask him if he was alright, her anger lessened by her curiosity when he turned to look at her with fright in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry" the goblin stuttered "If I only knew… Please, let me fetch the director!" he stumbled over his words in his hurry to speak quickly. At her confused nod, he flashed out of the room with incredible speed.

Shaking her head at the strange behaviour, Hermione stepped closer to what she suspected was her family tree. It was much larger than the one of the Black family at Grimmauld Place. At the very top, right under the crest, there was a name written in large cursive letters.

_ARCEY_

She had never heard of such a name in all those five years she spent skimming over the books in the Hogwarts library. From the first look, she could tell there were no dates which would help her with finding her own name. So logically, she began to look at the very bottom.

There was a pattern in her family, she soon found out. Always a firstborn son, then a second born daughter. Rarely there were more than two siblings. There were three branches of the Arceys at the very bottom but none of them had her name in it. So she went up and up, not wondering about the strange names she was reading. Three branches became two and then one and still there was no Hermione.

Nevertheless her resolve didn't falter and she went further and further up her family tree. And finally, when she was about half way through, she stumbled upon her name and held her breath.

_HERMIONË CASSIOPEIA ARCEY_

Daughter to Orcus Silvanus Arcey and Calypso Vela Black, sister to Avernus Orcus Arcey.

* * *

**A/N: Dun, dun, dun... So you know who she is. But it doesn't tell you much, does it? I'm very excited to hear your ideas as to who the Arceys are or why she was able to find her name so far up the family tree... So please tell me your ideas and as always thank you for reading and your lovely comments you left!**

**Please Review :)**


	14. Richmond

**A/N: So one of you had caught on. There is no Dumbledore meddling, just plain simple family machinations... I don't want to spoil it to you so here is another chapter!**

* * *

"Where is our daughter?" a man's voice thundered throughout the stony corridors of one of the many Arcey mansions. The man in question all but ran, the heels of his sturdy dragon hide boots clicking on the tiled floor. His robes were billowing all around his body, creating a scary smoke as if he was Hades reincarnate.

Other occupants of the mansion who had been foolish enough to open their doors and gaze at the raging man were being thrown back into their rooms, doors shut with loud thuds in their faces. His magic could be seen, snakes, angry poisonous snakes coiled around his arms and legs, hissing as they moved around in the air.

There was only one door that had remained unopened throughout his raving and raging. The large carved double door had remained tightly closed, mocking him, irritating the hell out of him. Swishing the wand in his hand idly, the door that obscured his view of the room flew open without a moment of hesitancy.

"Where is our daughter?" he asked again, his anger barely contained by his seemingly calm tone of voice.

"Not here" a feminine voice answered his question. A laboured breathing could be heard, as well as struggling of someone to sit up.

But the man didn't look like he would be helping her anytime soon. Taking a deep breath, he asked her for the third time, now deathly calmly and quietly "Where. Is. Our. Daughter?"

"AS I said, not here" the woman wouldn't let herself be deterred. She did make a deal with the Head of the House Arcey and there was only one stipulation. Her daughter would need to stay alive.

She still couldn't believe she had agreed to the proposition. She had married out of obligation to her family. As a third born she was betrothed before she had even been born. Her father had managed something that no one had ever managed to do before. They betrothed her to an Arcey, a second in succession to the Quintet.

But their relationship was anything but affectionate. Orcus Arcey was a terrifying man, powerful beyond belief, powerful enough for the Quintet to want him dead. She held him in no nonsensical regard.

He had lain with her two times. Once it had been their wedding night, and then it had been as another custom – two months after she gave birth to her first son. And both times she had become pregnant, though that was no surprise – that was what the marriage bonding was for. The rest of their two and a half year long marriage he had spent whoring himself out to any willing woman.

Yes – it was disgusting, yes – it was humiliating but no – she would never do anything about it. She was born a woman and she knew what was expected of her. She was to bear him children and she was to listen to him and the Head of her House, in her case, Heads of her Houses. And both Thanatos Arcey and Acrux Black had decided that enough was enough.

Orcus had brought enough shame and debt to his personal vaults that both men had decided that it could not continue this way. He broke deals that were hundred years old, he had angered the king of the British Isles not to mention he had managed to somehow enrage almost all of the Scottish clans. The 'boy' was nothing but a catastrophe.

Personally, Thanatos Arcey blamed himself for allowing his son to marry that Saxon chit. She was nothing but a whore, he had known, but the customs in his family forbade him to betroth his firstborn son. What enraged him even more was that his own son had then broken this custom and had chosen a wife for his son. Though he had agreed with the choice – Black would make a superb wife, it was the principle that had been broken and he would never forget that. With his only daughter, there had been no issue. She had married a respectful wizard settled in Wales and was happily married and with children.

He had hoped that after Calypso came into her condition and gave him a son, his grandson would calm down. But that hadn't been the case.

He had been there personally, just last week after she had been born, to see his great-granddaughter and realised he couldn't let the sweet little girl grow up in such a madhouse.

He made the decision and ordered Calypso to send her away to her Black relatives. And then he made her agree to kill her husband. She had seemed overly eager and he couldn't blame her. He had promised he would take her in as soon as the deed was done and the young woman craved nothing more than a little peace of mind.

Both the clans and the King practically gave him an ultimatum – either Orcus died or they would wage war on the Quintet, and that was something he neither liked nor would he ever allow. So a deal was made.

And that's where Calypso was now, sitting on her bed, still exhausted from the huge amount of magic she had done just hours ago. It surprised her – the reaction Orcus had to the disappearance of his daughter. But there were things that needed to be done and she needed to hurry up.

"Answer me woman!" he shouted at her and strode towards her bed.

"I sent her away, to my father's mansion in Richmond" she said calmly, already reconciled with her fate. She wasn't stupid or naïve enough to believe all the things Thanatos had told her. Her wows were binding, if one was the end of the other, the one was the end of themselves ergo she kills him, she dies. But there was nothing more inviting to her than death.

As soon as those words left her mouth, the man that was her husband turned around wanting to apparate away but she had been quicker, casting anti-apparition wards and stupefying him. She was too weak to stand up so she just look at him as he stood there, frozen to the spot.

"Even if you went there, you wouldn't be able to find her." As perplexing as that sentence sounded to him, to her it made perfect sense. "I send her somewhere safe, somewhere where she wouldn't be bothered by your pawns." She muttered to herself. She had notified certain people so they would know about her existence were they to come across her daughter. But she would never see her again, nor would anyone from her living family. She had no idea how far had the spell taken her, but she hoped it was far enough.

Far enough for her daughter to become the most powerful with to ever walk the earth.

"I'm sorry" she whispered as she pointed her wand at her husband and slashing the piece of wood in the air, she uttered the only two words she had ever feared.

"Avada Kedavra"

* * *

"Miss Arcey" the goblin said upon entering "I think it would be best if you would follow me to my office. With your permission I would let Mr Lupin and Mrs Tonks know that you will stay here a bit longer."

Hermione only nodded her head, thinking it better to just go with the flow and think things through rather than say something hastily and then regret it later.

Instead of walking on foot the both of them went towards a nearby fireplace. "Say the numbers 347, Miss Arcey"

Not wanting to be the victim of some funny goblin joke, she motioned with her hand for the goblin to go first. Surprising her, he tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and stepping into the emerald flames he shouted "347" and disappeared soon after.

Shaking her head in disbelief at what she was about to do, she flooed to the unknown destination.


	15. Head of House

_Power is domination, control, and therefore a very selective form of truth which is a lie._

_\- Wole Soynika_

* * *

Travelling by floo was never her favourite magical form of transportation. It always made her head spin and her insides feel like they were being pushed through a teeny tiny tube. Even falling freefall on her broom was a more comfortable feeling than travelling by floo.

Fortunately for Hermione this particular trip through the floo network wasn't long enough for her to become sick. She didn't even manage to count to five and all of a sudden, gentle yet slightly unpleasant hands helped her get out of the fireplace.

Forgoing the rule that kept a wizard or a witch from using their wands at Gringotts, she swiftly vanished any soot that attached itself to her coat. Seeing an empty chair across yet another office table, she sat down without any prompt from the goblin who had rushed her into his office. She presumed he was the director of Gringotts but by now she didn't really care anymore.

"Master Goblin, we very well may stare at each other for the rest of the day but know that my patience isn't where it was this morning when it comes to you and your… colleagues" Hermione said without any inhibitions whatsoever. She really wanted to go home, or whenever her home was right now and forget all about this Gringotts business. Even though she knew that she would need to learn about the powers and requirements of being a Head of House, she allowed herself a moment of childish sulking.

"Of course Miss Arcey, let us proceed then" the goblin said in a subdued tone that made Hermione suspicious at once.

"Why do you insist on calling me Miss Arcey?" she asked him, looking him straight in the eye. His eyes were different from the clerk she had spoken to before in the 'Inheritance' chamber. This one's eyes were a tad warmer and welcoming than the others' but she could sense the urgency and pure fierceness that wasn't in Master Budoc's expression.

"Because it is your name Miss Arcey and it will be so from now on, only changing were you to marry. Of course, when you have sons, the firstborn will bear the name of your husband while the other carries on with the Arcey line – that is the usual proceeding if a female is the last of her line." The director enlightened her though he had no way of knowing that precisely these words hurt Hermione the most.

There were no children for her, no family, and no husband in the future. That had all ended with Bellatrix cursing her Sirius through the Veil. Yes, her Sirius, for he belonged to her as much as she did to him.

Though her only reaction consisted of her balling her hands into tight fists, the Director sensed that this topic wasn't precisely the one he would wish to continue. "The Ministry of Magic, will not be notified unless you think it necessary…" he went on, this time speaking about something that was far more… appropriate.

"No, I don't think that I will be informing the Ministry of this – development." She was still surprised that Rita Skeeter didn't manage to post some ridiculous article about her and her orphan-hood in the even more absurd Daily Prophet. Even though Hermione was aware of the fact that if the Ministry knew she was no muggle-born, there might be certain let's say advantages; though she wouldn't be foolish enough to hand them this knowledge on a silver platter.

She would be called a blood-traitor, she would be scorned and there was a high possibility that she would be sought out in order to spy on Harry Potter, Dumbledore and well – the whole Order of the Phoenix. This notion was simply ludicrous, nevertheless, how could the Deatheaters know for sure that she wouldn't betray Harry? Simple, they could not. However this brought her to her next point.

"Who were – are the Arceys?" Hermione asked curiously, wanting to know something about her own family.

"They managed to keep their identity secret I see…." The goblin murmured to himself but then remember that he wasn't alone and started to explain.

"In the beginning, there were five families which called themselves the Quintet. They consisted of the Black's, Darwin's, Peverell's, Godwin's and lastly the Arcey's. The Arcey family was the oldest and most powerful of them all. Then came the Blacks and then the rest."

"So the Arceys are …" "- purebloods, yes Miss" the goblin finished the sentence for her. Hermione didn't care for the blood difference. It sounded too much like dog breeding to her. But she couldn't fail to see the advantage to being the last one of the oldest magical family there is.

However, only now did it become strange to her that the goblin was treating her with so much humility. "My… family, how were they of import to the wizarding world?" she asked him quietly, letting herself form the words carefully.

"The whole family was slaughtered by Grindelwald because of their influence" the goblin supplied an answer quickly, though it wasn't what she had expected.

It had answered her question as to how important they were. If they were simple nobody, one of the darkest Wizards in the history wouldn't make it his point to erase their entire existence off the surface of the earth. But the whole Grindelwald uprising had been in the nineteen forties. The math didn't add up, she should have been the age of McGonagall or slightly younger!

"I'm sorry Master – "only now did she realise she didn't know his name which was quite the embarrassment to the young witch. "Oh forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Brodrog, the director of Gringotts" he said with a bow of his head.

"Nice to meet you Master Brodrog" Hermione said, not forgetting the polite nod as well and continued with what she began to say earlier "Master Brodrog, forgive me but I think there must be something you have left out. Either the entire family hadn't been slaughtered by Grindelwald in the 40's or the test was wrong" she knew that supposing that the inheritance test was incorrect was foolish but she wasn't able to find a suitable explanation.

"I assure you, Miss Arcey, the test was not wrong. You are indeed the daughter of Orcus Arcey and Calypso Black. You should also know that with magic, nothing is impossible" Brodrog said mysteriously which bugged Hermione to no end.

"You have me confused, director" she said directly. She really wasn't able to understand what the goblin kept on saying.

"Perhaps I should tell you that Orcus and Calypso Arcey died in 485 A.C." he said and awaited her reaction with baited breath.

'485 A.C.! Do I really look that stupid?' Hermione asked herself as she stared at the creature sitting across from her. Somehow she managed to keep her blank expression and didn't show any of the confusion she was feeling at the moment.

Taking a deep breath she started to speak very clearly, enunciating each syllable soundly "So let me get this clear, you claim that I had been born- " she quickly counted the years in her head and continued "about fifteen hundred years in the past?"

"Yes" he answered curtly.

"I see…" Hermione said, rubbing her tired eyes. She really hated this muted light.

There would be other time for her to ponder this absurdity so she pushed all her other annoying questions aside and decided to concentrate on other matters.

"I would like to keep this as quiet as possible. With Voldemort on one side and Dumbledore on the other, I'm not really sure how people would react. Could you please tell me more about the Quintet?"

"Of course Miss… The Quintet could be seen as the governing families of the Magical World. Everyone respected them and agreed with them most of the time. Though we goblins do not know much about what the Quintet did, we know that people who felt aggrieved by the Quintet formed the Wizards' Council. Sure you know how much good that had done" Brodrog concluded in a sarcastic tone.

"In late eleventh century, the Eadwig's and Bones's joined them and created a Septet. The first family that died out were the Peverell's which were then replaced by the Potter's, then came Godwin's however this time the family didn't get replaced. The same went for Eadwig's. The Darwin's became Greengrass's and the rest is the same. The Septet became Quintet again."

"Forgive my asking, but how do _you_ know all this?" Hermione certainly didn't want to offend the goblin by saying he had no business knowing about such wizarding - she couldn't find a better word than organisation.

"I'm almost two hundred years old and I was there when the last bond between the Quintet – at that time Quartet got signed." He didn't seem the least offended so Hermione continued her interrogation.

"Quartet?"

"Yes, in the late sixties, before the terror of the Dark Lord Voldemort, the last bond between the newest Heads of their Houses was signed. Algar Potter in place of the Peverells, Pollux Black, Walter Bones and Irvin Greengrass in place of the Darwin's." the goblin enumerated the families and Hermione blanched a bit at hearing the name of Sirius's grandfather. She really needed to understand what this whole Quintet business was about. But not now.

She was growing irritated at the amount of things she would need to find out. Her time jump, the Quintet, Septet, Wizards' Council…

"Is there any business I need to attend to?" Hermione asked the goblin, hoping that the answer would be negative. But unfortunately for her, that was not to be.

"Yes, firstly, you need to receive your Head of House insignia" and with that, he opened a small wooden box and took out a pair of rose gold bracelets – one set with black diamonds and emeralds, the other with white mine brilliants with yellow diamonds as a centre. Simply put, they were stunning.

"The one with the black diamonds belongs to the House of Black and the other to the House of Arcey. It is a custom for the female Head of House to wear these since the family rings can be worn only by males." As he was explaining this, he handed them to her and she gently put them on her wrist, where they magically bound themselves together.

Surprisingly, it created a very nice combination. The bracelet wasn't even an inch in width and was by no means heavy, the opposite really…

"These are your seals" he handed her yet another bracelet. This one was of goblin silver with a small badge in the middle which upon further inspection showed the combination of the Black and Arcey coat of arms. Shaking her head at the obscenity of the jewellery currently on her wrist, she felt the pendant cooling her bare skin.

This was all because of Sirius and she couldn't make herself blame him. Realising that she was in a world on her own, the goblin took out some paperwork for her to read later and left her to her thoughts.

"Do I own a place where I could stay?" Hermione asked out of the blue.

"Of course Miss Arcey. You own the Arcey ancestral castle and several other mansions, then there is the Black ancestral Leeds castle and also a mansion in Yorkshire that comes with the Black name. The last is an Arcey townhouse in London, Kensington Palace Gardens I believe"

In the end Hermione wasn't sure how it was possible that her eyes managed to stay well – in her head. That was a lot of place to pick from. How was it possible to own so much?

"Does my – ehm – family own any business?" Hermione asked, still slightly unused to the term 'my family'.

Handing her a large leather folder he explained "Here's all that you need to know about the Black and Arcey family business. In short, the Arcey money comes from wand-crafting and Black business is rather about stock market."

'Well, that wasn't very enlightening' Hermione thought as she looked at the large folder with worry. She didn't really want to dwell into business plans, risks and charts or whatever but it seemed as necessary evil.

"Is there anything else that needs to be done _today_?" Hermione asked impatiently, wanting to get out of this bank as soon as possible.

"No, this will be all Miss Arcey" the director told her with a nod of his head.

Cheering on the inside Hermione stood up, already ready to leave when she remembered that she had wanted the goblins to tell Andromeda and Remus that she would stay longer than she had expected. "Do you know whether Mrs Tonks and Mr Lupin stayed or not?" she asked him.

"Mr Lupin said he needed to attend to some business of his, nevertheless Mrs Tonks is waiting for you in the Grand Hall." The goblin answered her in a dismissive tone.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Brodrog" Hermione said her goodbye politely, not forgetting that the goblins were rather sensitive when it came to the manners of wizards and witches.

"Goodbye Miss Arcey" the director parted with her, a small almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "Just go straight ahead and you will find yourself in the Grand Hall" he advised her politely.

"Thank you" she said quietly and as he had said, she arrived in the Grand Hall in less than a minute. However, she pretended she didn't hear the enraged yell of Brodrog as he called for Budoc. After all, it was none of her business.

* * *

**A/N: And here it is, we're at the end of her dealings with the snarky Goblins. What do you think about it? What do you wish to know about the Quintet and her responsibilities as the new Head of two Houses?**

**Thank you so much for reading and please REVIEW! :))**


	16. Home

**A/N: And finally, the next chapter. I'm very sorry it took me so long! **

* * *

Hermione's mind was whirling with all the new knowledge she had gained today. Thousands of jumbled up thoughts were rushing there and back again, her brain refusing to stop and consider only one at a time. She was consumed by confusing and illogical feelings and emotions.

Her feet, as if working on their own accord, found their way to the Grand Hall and out, not stopping until she felt the fresh yet damp air hit her face. Only then did she manage to breathe a little bit more freely. However the confusion didn't leave her entirely. If she were to analyse her state of mind in that moment she would have realised that those conscious and subconscious parts of her mind had managed to separate.

She was being overtaken by her inner, deeper side. Her imagination and fears were starting to get the better of her. Her brain was guided by her animalistic instinct with only one goal – survival.

The indescribable feeling of being observed and followed creeped upon her. Turning her head sideways, she tried to spot her stalker. She didn't see anything suspicious though. The only thing that made her believe that there actually was something looking at her was that wretched feeling deep in her stomach.

And then she heard the voice that kept her awake at night.

"Mioneee…" it called out and Hermione began to back away, managing to avoid bumping into any unfortunate soul. Paranoid fear had overtaken her as she tried to escape, run away… But her feet felt as if they were permanently stuck to the ground.

Chills ran down her spine, her hands shaking by her sides as she desperately shook her head. Beads of sweat formed on her temple. She was convinced that what she was seeing playing out in front of her eyes was nothing but the truth. Her dress, her cloak… everything looked just like in the newspaper.

"You know you can't run away" the woman in front of her taunted her even though Hermione hadn't seen her opening her mouth to speak.

"You know that you will pay for what you did to Rudolphus..." the woman continued to speak and advance her but Hermione wasn't able to think straight. Fear had crippled her and the usual reassurance that she was in a public space, in Diagon Alley where there were at least some people, didn't bring her the comfort it should have.

"Tsk, tsk… Wanting to leave already?" The woman cocked her head to the side as if looking for somebody behind Hermione's shoulder. As soon as the witches broke the eye-contact, Hermione was finally able to snap out of it and realise it was not real, that Bellatrix had been the by-product of her vivid imagination. Blinking repeatedly, she found herself being shaken by the woman with kinky hair that she had met in the Gringotts bank. Only now did she realise it wasn't Bellatrix, but Andromeda.

'Was she going crazy?' She asked herself as she kept on reassuring the kind older woman. "No, there's nothing going on with me…" and "Yes, I'm quite all right…"

That and various other meaningless but polite phrases innocently left her mouth even though that on the inside, Hermione's head was in complete turmoil. She had no idea what had brought it on – that little panic attack of hers. It might have been Andromeda's terrifying resemblance to Bellatrix, her current exhausted state of mind. The reasons went on and on, each more frightening than the other.

"Are you sure you are all right child? You did look positively ill just moments ago…" Andromeda worried, a frown etched onto her older face. 'Talk about overbearing…' Hermione thought sarcastically, her practiced gentle smiled fixed on her face.

"Yes ma'am, quite sure" Hermione tried to convince not only Mrs Tonks but also herself.

"Well then, I suggest we find ourselves a quiet place to talk. We do have a few things to discuss…" Andromeda proposed though it was clear there weren't that many places they could go in Diagon Alley.

"Would you mind going to a café in muggle London? I don't think it would be… safe… to loiter around here anymore" Hermione voiced her worry. She wasn't exactly sure what time it was but judging by the almost non-existent light she guessed it was way past noon.

"Yes… that might be for the best. Pull your hood up, Diagon Alley isn't what it once used to be" the older woman said, or commanded as she adjusted her obsolete cloak and hid her face in the shadow cast by her hood. Soon after, Hermione did the same.

And so the two women set off into the muggle world in silence. While Hermione was still coming to terms with her tiny 'episode' Andromeda was thinking and evaluating the girl walking beside her. It was by no means an uncomfortable silence since both of them understood the reasons behind their necessary cease of talking.

It was true, Diagon Alley wasn't what it once used to be. There were many ears that led to the _right_ or _wrong _people, depending on the point of view and right now, Hermione wasn't in the mood to air her dirty laundry in public. It took them less than ten minutes to find a nice and quiet place in a tidy side alley off Piccadilly Circus.

"I'll be having a cup of tea" Andromeda ordered her usual black tea with lemon while Hermione asked for nice cup of coffee. It had been a while since she had had the chance to enjoy the earthy smell and she wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to savour the taste of freshly made coffee.

"How rude of me" Mrs Tonks suddenly exclaimed, startling Hermione out of her reverie "My name's Andromeda Tonks" Andy introduced herself politely, still being the slave to her pureblooded upbringing.

"Very nice to meet you Mrs Tonks" Hermione shook her hand gently if a little bit awkwardly, being a stranger to the proper ways of proceeding during such conversations. Her manners were nowhere near rude but she hadn't exactly read a book on etiquette. One should probably mention it was not for the lack of trying though. There just weren't any books on etiquette at Hogwarts (which infuriated Hermione to no end).

"None of that – please, call me Andromeda" the Black woman requested, successfully bringing Hermione out of her uneasiness. Before she could reply, they were interrupted by the young waitress who brought them their ordered beverages. A smile was all she gave the older woman sitting in front of her and waited for the young woman who served them to leave.

"I don't mean to sound rude but how did you find out about me?" Hermione asked bluntly after she took a sip of her hot coffee. This question had bother her ever since she had found out from Remus that out of the blue, Andromeda offered to take her in. And right then, she wasn't in the mood for subtleness.

"Straight to the point I see" Andy said more to herself than to Hermione and smiled a sad smile which unnerved Hermione a bit.

"I got a letter you see, from my cousin who had mentioned you could benefit from a friendly environment during your summer holiday." Andromeda informed the young witch. She expected a change in her expression, more questions as to who she meant but none of that came. The only thing that did change were her eyes that became a bit darker.

"I don't think there will be any need for that since I've recently found out that I _do_ have a place to stay till I resume school in September…" Hermione answered, her voice void of any recognisable emotion. Nevertheless she thought it necessary to show exactly what she meant by that statement.

Rolling up her sleeve, she revealed exactly what it was that made her refuse Andromeda's offer.

As soon as she did that, Andy's gaze fell on those two bracelets that adorned her wrist and her lips formed the ever famous smirk she was so used to seeing on Draco Malfoy's face.

"It _has_ been a while since a woman was a Head of our House…" Andromeda wondered aloud, wanting to confirm her guess.

"Yes, I suppose it has…" Hermione said noncommittally, her voice filling the time that would have been surely spent by awkward silence.

"But it _is_ a shame that those Goblins chose those bracelets… There were much more beautiful ones in the vaults when I last frequented them… I wonder what happened to them." Andromeda noted, her eyes showing her amusement rather clearly.

"Well, they didn't let me make my own choice. I do hope there are some other ones to choose from, these are rather… vulgar…" the words left her mouth on their own accord, making the necessary conversation even though Hermione's mind was otherwise occupied. Well, not exactly.

She was thinking about what Andy said just moments ago, about frequenting the Black family vaults and knowing the Head of House jewellery… Perhaps, even though she will not stay with the reinstated Black, she might benefit from their meeting otherwise.

"Andy…, may I call you Andy?" Hermione asked, purposefully using the nickname she knew the woman liked the most.

"Yes, you may…" Andy nodded, her voice cloaked with nostalgia, wondering whether Sirius mentioned that precisely that was the name he used to call her all of his life.

"Andy, you seem as if you knew a lot about this whole… Head of House… business" Hermione said, leaving the end open, wanting her companion to complete her own thoughts.

"At that time, it seemed prudent to my father to teach me – I would call it the basics of managing the House, as his father taught him… Though there is only little I'm familiar with. I managed to fall out of… favour… before he could finish" Andromeda informed her.

She managed to surprise Hermione with her forthcoming attitude. She had suspected that since they, the Blacks – her very own family had treated her with such contempt for so long, decades even, she would've become too bitter because of it. But the opposite seemed to be the truth.

"I suggest you go to the Black castle in Leeds, there's a portrait hall and they will help you with everything." Andromeda ended her speech solemnly, a distant look in her eyes.

"How can I get there?" Hermione asked her, suddenly regretting not taking the time to learn Apparition.

"I would take you but I don't think the house would welcome me with open arms. Though I used to know a house-elf who worked there, she went by the name of Flipsy. Find someplace where no one will see and call her. She will take you home" Andy told her, finishing her cup of tea with elegance.

Nodding slightly, Hermione cast one look at their waitress, signalling they would like to pay.

Somehow, she couldn't find it in her to talk about anything else. There just seemed to be so much on her mind right then and yet, she didn't want to share it with her companion. Absentmindedly paying with the little muggle money she had on her, she almost missed the last question Andy gave her.

"You haven't introduced yourself yet…" The older woman scolded her kind-heartedly, though Hermione realised there was much excitement behind her odd request.

"Yes, I suppose I haven't." Hermione acknowledged but didn't apologise in any way. Her posture still hanging onto its rigidness, she introduced herself as Hermione Black. And in that moment Andy realised the girl didn't trust her and probably never would.

"It was nice meeting you, Hermione Black" she said her goodbye "If you ever need anything, be it someone to talk to or… don't hesitate to write" and with one sad glance at the thin girl with dark hair, Andromeda turned around on the spot and apparated home.

Hermione didn't stay there, standing in front of the little café. Instead, she found a shady side-street and hid behind some old bins and wooden boxes. Checking whether it was clear, she imagined the little eared creature and called out "Flipsy!"

It didn't take long for the little being to appear right in front of her. It seemed startled at first, its small fists shaking with unknown feelings of excitement and dread. Her little head was covered with featherlike white hair and her huge ears bounced up and down around her face.

"How can Flipsy help you?" the creature asked her uncertainly, not knowing who it was speaking to.

Hunching forward, Hermione started to talk "My name's Hermione Black and I need you to take me home"

"Home?" the little creature asked, still not being entirely sure whether it was a hoax or not. She had never seen the girl standing in front of her before and her masters would be very angry with her if she brought some stranger into their home. And it indeed did not matter that they were just portraits.

"Yes, home." Hermione said, a little more pressingly now, the word 'home' leaving behind a strange feeling upon her tongue.

The creature looked as if it was debating with itself, assessing the person standing in front of her with its huge tennis ball-like eyes. Finally, assenting to Hermione's request, Flipsy said "Please take my hand"

As soon as Hermione's palm touched Flipsy's hand, the both of them disappeared with a tiny pop, leaving an empty street behind.

* * *

**How do you think it will continue? What do you think she will encounter during her summer holidays? Thanks so much for reading and PLEASE REVIEW! :)**


	17. Guest And The Stranger's House

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews. As to your questions (For those who follow this story and read my commentary it will be quite clear, for those who don't, don't fret, these are no spoilers, just something to look forward to):**

**Hermione will be coming back to school for her sixth year. Her interactions with Harry and Ron will be explained (once and for all), then there's Snape and Dumbledore. Also, don't forget that the all the purebloods or halfbloods that were brought up to the old-ways will recognise her immediately for what she is. And I sooo can't steal that away from you...**

**As to her relation-ship with Draco, that will be interesting so keep looking forward to that.**

**Someone asked me if Sirius will be coming back. I'm not cruel and I do love a happy ending. But don't forget that this is only the second part and there will be one more to come...**

**Without further ado, here's the next chapter!**

* * *

House Elves. Well, that was another question to ponder. Hermione had no idea where some of her schoolmates got the idea that she was obsessed with freeing those wonderful little creatures. In the aftermath of her "revelation" (otherwise known as Hermione is Voldemort's daughter rumour) the wretched schoolmates of her thought of many ways how to make her life unpleasant. And surprisingly, spreading rumours about her forcing the elves to lose their bonds with their families was one of them. Though she still had no idea how that was to ruin her life…

She was offended, that was for sure, but never decided to do anything against it. It wasn't that she supported the slavery they were subjected to in some families. No, by no means did she think it was right. But to hint that she wanted them to lose their bonds? That she, in other words, wanted to kill them? Now, that was insane.

The only thing she had ever said on the account of house-elves and their work was that perhaps, their living conditions should be improved (come on, look how Kreacher lived…) and that their masters, who were literally their lifeline, should behave more appropriately towards them. And just like that she "became" one of the opposers (if not the only one) of 'owning' a house-elf.

That and very much everything she had ever to do with these little creatures Hermione pondered on the second long journey to the Leeds Castle. The house-elf Flipsy was clutching her hand tightly, transporting her with its magic to their destination - the Black family estate.

She hadn't said exactly where Flipsy should take her and for a moment, a sliver of second, she worried that it might be raining in Kent.

Freeing her mind, loosing that binding sense that tethered her to the place she had been just moments ago, her magic connected with Flipsy's and with a pop, they appeared in a large hall with a rather high but flat ceiling. It looked like the Versailles Hall of Mirrors she had once seen on a picture, but much more dark. The heavy curtains made of the deep green velvet fabric restricted the flow of light and created a frosty and dusty ambiance.

Flipsy stayed standing next to her, her tennis ball-like eyes peering at her as if wanting to see what was going on inside her head. And then, it started to tremble.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked fearing she had done something that scared the little being.

"Flipsy is a bad elf!" the creature suddenly wailed and fell to its knees. Once on the floor, it started to bang its head against the cold, stone tiles.

"Flipsy! Stop!" She tried to halt its self-punishment but that made it even worse. The abusive words that left its mouth greatly surprised Hermione. Flipsy had a rather extensive vocabulary.

When it was starting to get unbearable and Hermione feared that the little elf would actually gouge its eyes out a strong, powerful voice made itself known "Flipsy, that's enough"

Startled, Hermione jumped up and turned around, expecting to see someone standing behind her. 'Have I become really so careless?' she asked herself, wondering whether this had all been a set-up. But as soon as she turned around, she found out that no, she hadn't let her guard down.

There was no one, all she could see was another end of the hall. Flipsy had quietened down and the only thing that could be heard was… nothing. It was completely quiet.

"I don't believe we've met" the powerful voice was heard once more and Hermione spun in the direction it came from. She was met with a grand portrait of a man, probably in his late 40s but with the wizards being able to live so long, one never knew, he could have been 60.

Hermione didn't answer, which, even though it was very rude, gave both parties more time to observe each other. The man in the portrait had raven black curly hair which fell to just below his ears and dark, brown eyes which seemed dull, empty as if the spark that had surely been there faded years, centuries ago.

"You've managed to quite distress our elf." The person commented on the state of the still trembling elf who was worrying out of its mind.

"Our?" Hermione asked dumbly, her mind not really concentrating, not thinking.

"Yes, our... well, not yours of course… You see, even though we're stuck in these portraits, these halls need to be kept in case someone like you comes to visit" the portrait remarked.

"You don't seem alarmed…" Hermione said absentmindedly her eyes wondering all over the walls and realising that they were being watched.

There were many portraits, all of them men, though some of them had a woman standing by their side. They were all watching her with avid eyes, feasting on the presence of someone new, someone that sparked up their dull (non)existence.

"No, I suppose I am not…" he bent his head to one side, narrowing his eyes as if looking for something that would explain her existence. Whether he found it or not Hermione did not know but in the next minute, he began introducing himself.

"How very rude of me. You're a guest in my house and I haven't even introduced myself" He said haughtily though fortunately, he didn't hear her mutter that it wasn't his house anymore.

"I'm Lord Black, though I admit, that might be a bit confusing since there's so many of us. Pollux Black at your service, my lady"

Well, she hadn't expected that. 'Nevertheless', she reminded herself 'a family with so many generations, with so much history had to have time to learn proper etiquette.'

"How do you do?" Hermione replied politely and Lord Black didn't waste any time continuing.

"Now, I'm not exactly sure how much did manners change in the last fifty years, but in my time it was always considered polite to introduce oneself after crossing the threshold of a stranger's house" He said in his overly flowery language Hermione wasn't used to hearing.

"And even though you didn't exactly cross the threshold, you've imposed yourself on our house-elf. Now I would very much like to know who had decided to pay us a visit, even more, how did you come to know of its name" there wasn't much warmth left in his voice. Instead, Hermione was reminded of his dark, brusque command just moments ago.

That, she could deal with. She was more used to the negative way of speaking than formal sugar-coating of the well-bred.

"I suppose... but then, isn't it considered unmannerly to not offer the guest any refreshments, whatever the purpose of their… visit… might be?" Hermione knew she was treading on thin ice but then again, when wasn't she?

She would have called it respect, the almost imperceptible reaction that appeared on Pollux's face. But it might as well have been distaste and scorn. She took great pride in her ability to guess the other's emotion but when it came to the few purebloods she had come to know, it had always been a rather tough nut to crack. Their expressions were stony, their eyes getting colder and colder. Though maliciousness, intent maliciousness she was able to spot from miles afar.

In the end, the portrait settled on smirking "Flipsy, take our guest to the drawing-room in the east wing. I will speak with our guest there!"

Hermione only raised her brow at his behaviour. Nevertheless Flipsy didn't give her time to ponder her situation any longer since without even warning her, it got hold of her hand and sent her to the drawing-room. It had all been so quick that Hermione had to catch the nearest chair lest she fell down because of her spinning her.

"I suggest you sit down. Flipsy had always had a rather peculiar way of making our guests dizzy. She will bring some refreshments shortly. Till then, perhaps you could enlighten me and my son-in-law here as to what is the business of your visit?" The portrait on the right side of the chimneypiece spoke to her. There were two of them actually, though they looked very alike. Raven black hair, rich looking clothes, a mannered pose. There was no question as to who these men once were.

She really didn't know what to tell them both. She suddenly realised that this whole day had been as if conducted by some other entity. And she was just a marionette, with strings attached to her hands and legs. The Gringotts bank, the inheritance and identity test, her meeting with Andromeda. It all seemed to her that none of her own will was behind anything she had done that day. And she just had had enough of it.

Ignoring the two men, she put her bag and cloak on a small side table made out of polished mahogany wood. However, she did not forget to take her wand before depositing away her belongings.

Gracefully, she sat down. Her head no longer spinning, she was the picture of perfected cool and calm. Her long hair cascaded down the sides of her face, going way below her shoulders. Her long-sleeved jumper managed to cover her forearms, making her bracelets invisible to her audience.

She looked around the room, and she took her time doing it. The walls seemed to be wooden but painted over with dark blue, with small golden flowers on them. There were various landscape paintings hanging on the walls and one more portrait, this time of a woman. As to who she was Hermione had no clue. On the wall directly opposite the door, there was a tapestry of what appeared to be… star hunts? She really wasn't sure.

When she finally decided she had stared enough, she turned her eyes back towards the portraits. But she didn't speak. She merely observed. They were both dressed in rather progressive robes which surprised her quite a lot. They were both wearing their cloaks with embroidered family crest. However underneath, they wore a black suit pants and sparkly white shirt under a waistcoat. The only difference between the two (apart from their slightly different facial expression) was that the older one, Pollux, was wearing striped waistcoat instead of a plain black one.

Ignoring the feeling that the two of them were looking extremely alike another Black she had known, she finally decided it would be nice to give them some answers.

She had no idea as to how they would take the news but there was nothing they could do to her _or_ about the situation. Maybe her expression indicated that she was lost in her thoughts or something alike since the clearly younger Black cleared his throat as if wanting to bring her out of her daydream.

"Oh I assure you Mr. Black, I was not lost in my thoughts. I was merely waiting for my cup of tea. You see, I find myself quite parched." Hermione said, smirking internally.

Fortunately, the portrait men were saved from losing their precious composure by the arrival of refreshments. Hermione was actually surprised the little elf didn't fall under the heavy load. Then she noticed that it was being held up by magic and Flipsy was only guiding it onto the serving table.

"What would Miss wish?" Flipsy asked her with kindness she had never expected to come from an elf. "I would like a cup of tea, a dash of milk if you would." Hermione asked smiling at the little creature and seemed content with only then when her the delicious smell of freshly baked scones reached her nose. As if anticipating her next words, Flipsy reached for a smaller plate and put one scone on it, cut in half and added both cream and jam. Yes, Hermione had just fallen in love with the little creature.

Flipsy then banished her things to the table further away so she could place her tea and still warm scone on it, for which Hermione thanked her profusely. The elf was grinning shyly from ear to ear, very much liking the person that had disturbed her lonely day with her call.

The china was wonderful. It was clear white, only the bottom was decorated with rose buds and leaves, the edges highlighted by little amount of gold. It was so light and thin that if it weren't for the tea, she would have barely felt it in her hand. Stirring her tea, she enjoyed prolonging the tension both of the wizards must have felt. Being stuck in a painting, oh my, she couldn't even begin to imagine.

Smirking into her cup of tea, she put it back on the side-table and finally began to speak.

"Lord Black, I think there is a tiny problem with the way you perceive this situation." Hermione said out of the blue.

"And what might that be?" Pollux Black furrowed his brow.

"Oh well, you seem to believe that I'm a guest in _your_ home…"

* * *

**A/N: I don't think I've ever written another chapter and enjoyed it so much. There is something about the way that this chapter evolved that make it so... I'm not entirely sure when the next chapter will come around but I assure you, you won't have to wait so long as you did for the last one. Also, please REVIEW, I need some constructive thoughts which would put me into the right direction with my story and writing... Thanks for reading! :))**


	18. 18

_Previously: _

"_Lord Black, I think there is a tiny problem with the way you perceive this situation." Hermione said out of the blue. _

"_And what might that be?" Pollux Black furrowed his brow. _

"_Oh well, you seem to believe that I'm a guest in your home…"_

* * *

There was a moment of silence - a very long moment of silence. The wizards just looked at her, their expression like a thick wall of stone. Hermione didn't know what the proper reaction to what she'd just said was. It might very well be this "un-reaction".

"I don't believe we've been introduced" the other wizard said, pretending to ignore the glare his relative sent him.

It might have been those tiny similarities between this man and the one she loved, though her reasons were the least she should worry about. And before she was able to catch herself, she heard her own voice. "Hermione Cassiopeia … Arcey-Black," she said with a polite bow of her head.

Those four words left her mouth with an ease she hadn't expected. It was one of those situation when you fear that if you say anything it will surely change your life. You fear the words will burn you, your mind coming up with infinite number of possibilities to what will or could happen once you utter them. But as soon as you say them, you realise just how ease it was to form them.

"Arcey you say?" Pollux tried to rationalise but was interrupted by his son-in-law, who even despite the utter senseless of this situation managed to keep his cool. Well, that was the main difference between those two – Pollux was very much like his daughter (to be precise, his daughter was too much like her father) to not be unperturbed by this situation.

Ignoring the obnoxious and regrettably last head-of-house he introduced himself to the beautiful and young woman. 'Remind me – how did Pollux manage to become a head-of-house?' he thought angrily.

"Orion Black, how do you do"

Hermione, even if a bit startled, still managed to remember herself "How do you do". She wasn't exactly sure which one she like better. They were both quite imposing – one with a temper and the other with a hidden agenda, that much she was able to see. It wasn't as if it was up to her to choose only one she would speak to. They were both very much there and unfortunately for her, she wasn't in the position to be picky.

"I don't remember there ever being a Hermione in our family, unless…" Orion remarked as he judged her with his eyes, looking for something that would make her a bastard child to one of the many (dead) members of their grand (tiny now) family. Yes, he was the master of denial. Not having enough time to consider his second option, he had to listen to the now ex-Head of House's ranting.

"Never mind her name, what about her surname! The whole of Arcey family was slaughter during the Grindelwald raids. I think one of the daughters got imperiod if my mind doesn't deceive me…." She would have laughed if it weren't her being interrogated. It seemed that even though they were family there was no love lost between the family members.

'One more thing to set straight.' Hermione thought to herself.

"I wouldn't have put it past the Arceys to not have found a loophole. They were always the best of us."

"You don't even remember them!" Pollux spat at the younger Black.

"That doesn't mean I don't remember the rumours. Everybody in our family knows them, or has the recent stay in your portrait managed to numb your mind enough to forget what we've been taught?" Orion mocked him.

"And what would those rumours be?" Pollux demanded to know.

"Yes, maybe I'll be able to answer that…" Hermione interrupted the two of them, not really in the mood to listen to their continuous arguing.

They both turned to look at her, expectation and anticipation clearly visible in their eyes. And so she told them all she knew about herself, the time jump, about her family (even though she suspected that the two of them knew much more than she did…) and lastly about how she got to the Black castle.

Once her short tale was complete, the three of them just looked at each other. Hermione, gazing at the two of them, wanting to guess their next reaction, the two wizards staring at her respectively, trying to wrap their heads around what she had just told them.

Well, of course they knew about the long lost Arcey that was practically a legend in their family. Though only the wizards were privy to this knowledge (they considered their witches too gossipy)

"Flipsy! Take Lady Hermione to her bedroom" a gentle woman's voice interrupted their staring contest. Hermione, surprised, turned around and looked at the woman she forgot to pay attention to.

She looked like Marie Antoinette, only with black hair piled on her head. Her gown was embroidered with so much precious stones that even her portrait managed to reflect the light. Her bosom was covered with the softest looking dark green lace, her fingers weighed down by many rings with diamonds. She certainly wasn't an advocate of "the less, the better".

The small elf that appeared with a soft pop got hold of Hermione's hand. But this time, it waited on her command to disapparete.

"Go with Flipsy, Lady Hermione. It's quite late already and I believe you've had a rather exhausting day. Would like to have supper?" the portrait woman asked her, behaving as the proper hostess.

Only now did Hermione realise how tired she actually was. "No thank you, I think I will forgo supper. Though I don't have my possessions on me…" she worried aloud, only now realising that all of her thigs were still at the Weasley twins'.

"No matter, dear child" said the woman, conveniently ignoring Hermione's silent bristling at being called a child "Flipsy shall pick it up."

"Yes mistress, Flipsy will go take mistress' things" Flipsy quipped, almost jumping up and down from having something diverting and new to do.

"That would be very kind of you" Hermione didn't forget to answer and with a wish of a good evening, she prompted the house-elf to take her to her room.

It was quite surreal, not needing to walk around the castle as one would need to as a muggle.

Flipsy had just popped out, on her way to the Weasley twins' and Hermione got time to look around her room.

It. Was. Huge. Not in impersonal kind of way, mind you. Hanging from the ceiling, there was a crystal chandelier with already flaming candles, casting light all over the room. There was a king sized four poster bed, her guess was six to six and a half feet in width alone. Over it, the canopy was made of heavy dark fabric.

The walls were painted the riches of violet with black motifs delicately charmed onto it. Wardrobe, mirrors, side tables, everything was made out of polished chestnut wood.

The bed looked the most inviting of it all. And not waiting for the elf to come back, she plopped down on it, letting herself be swallowed by the enormous amount of pillows and feathery covers. Closing her eyes, she fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Yes I know, finally! The day that spread through at least four chapters is finally at its end. I hope you're still with me even though I've managed to neglect this story for sooo long. I think that because my school year is finally (to an extent) over I will have more time and energy to write. Also I'm looking for a beta and someone to discuss my story with because I'm not hundred percent sure about its future. Don't panic! I will finish it! But probably not the way I envisioned it...**

**Next chapter will come I don't know when. But when it does, look forward to Sirius and Hermione, and yes, together!**


	19. Post(man) house-elf

A/N: Yes I know, you adore me. Now read on!

* * *

_The coldness of her feet made her open her eyes. Slushing of waves surrounded her from all sides. Looking down, she found out she was barefoot, at least three inches in clear water. Lifting her foot, she caressed the white sand in the water with her toes, stirring the tiny grains of shells and stone. Only then did she look in front of her, her attention caught by the infinity of the sea in front of her. _

_It was dawn, the innocent sun still hidden by grey morning mist of the ocean. Only stray rays of orange light were able to break through the wall of clouds. The sea was quiet, only tiny waves rolled around her feet, barely reaching the bottom of her skirt that didn't go past her ankles. _

_Squeaking of seagulls suddenly filled her ears as a lonely pair of them flew far away from her. Thundering could be heard as a rather mighty wave shattered against the cliff. The air was salty, cold, but warm as it filled her lungs. _

'_Just one step' she told herself, the water too much of a temptation for her not to resist it. And so she took one, two, three steps, until the bottom of her skirt flew in the water. Like nymph's hair, the silk material swirled around her legs. _

_She had haunted his dreams for days. Not knowing who she was, not even knowing her name, he was desperate to find her. He had looked all around the school but there hadn't been any girl, any woman that looked so ethereal like she did. Those long dark tresses, he still remembers how they felt flowing through his fingers, like the warmest and gentlest of streams of water. And her eyes, overflowing with tears. Why? He still didn't know. _

_So it came with a big surprise when he found himself overlooking a lonely beach. Seagulls squeaking, waves crashing. And there she stood, like last time. A fairy to his eyes. Her hair was flying in all and every direction as the wind blew towards the mainland. He watched as she went deeper and deeper into the water, her legs ensnared by the ocean up to her knees. _

_She looked so tiny and yet, so powerful, as if the whole of ocean stood to her command. And then, she looked at him._

_Again, that strange feeling surrounded her, the feeling she got when someone was watching, observing her. So she turned her head to the right. And there he stood in all his handsome glory. _

_Their eyes met, and even though they still stood far apart, grey and blue alike could see all the emotions play out in the other's eyes. Confusion, elation, sorrow, wonder… it was all there clear for them to read like a page in a book. _

_Did he make the decision to walk forward? Did he command his legs to carry him towards where she was standing in the sea? Such irrelevant questions…_

"_You didn't tell me who you are, the last time we've met" he gave her a look of reproach, wondering at his ability to remain out of her personal space this time. _

"_No I suppose I haven't" this seemed to be quite the habit nowadays, she thought to herself, not answering questions directly, not that she ever did with anyone but… him. _

_There was still some space between them and all she wanted was to reach out. But all she did was look down, yes, exactly like a coward she felt in the moment. Her eyes observed as the fabric of her dress-skirt flowed in the tiny waves, as if they were vines they curled around his legs. Yes, she was quite deep in the water. _

"_Why won't you look at me?" he asked her suddenly and it was the sadness in his voice that made her look up. A gasp escaped her mouth. He was so close to her and yet so far, his eyes opening up like they had never done before. _

'_How's this fair?' she shouted inside her head with rage. Maybe, some of the rage showed in her eyes since he took a step back, as much as one can step back in a sea, and his brow furrowed. _

_She had been wrong. This was no dawn. Light seemed to be scarcer and scarcer, now shadows were covering his face, making it impossible to her to see his expression. _

"_What is your name?" he repeated again, his voice hollow. Why, she did not know. _

'_What name to tell him?' she asked herself. One that everybody knew and appointed to the blackest of the families? One that had been slaughtered because of an unforgivable but simple curse? Or the one that had brought her to this world of misery? No, neither one would do. So she decided on the one that she had never used, never told someone to call her. _

"_Cassiopeia" she whispered, her voice laced with the darkness that came with the parting sea. _

"_May I call you Cassie?" the wizard asked her, the word rolling off on his tongue as if he was born to say it again, again and again. _

"_Yeah… you may" Hermione answered, scolding herself for the shyness that had suddenly appeared. _

"_What is this place…?" Sirius looked at the ocean that was stretching out in front of them like the night sky on the shortest day. It was almost dark now, the only light was being reflected by never-ending sea. _

"_I don't know" Hermione answered and turned to her right, wanting to… but as she did, she found out that there was no one standing there. And no sign that he ever was. _

_Her heart squeezed with sudden sadness. Not caring, she sat down in the water. _

_It was freezing her insides. Exactly like she needed. _

_But then she realised… This was just a dream, her mind was mocking her. _

_She closed her eyes..._

... and opened them staring at the heave canopy. Rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes, she realised she had been crying in her sleep.

'Wonderful' she thought to herself as she heaved a heavy sigh. She had just woken up and her head was already pounding with a headache. Closing her eyes for a moment, grey blue eyes stared at her from behind the blackness of her eye-lids. No, she realised, oblivion would bring her no peace.

The only way she knew that would occupy her mind enough to at least numb the pain that was spreading through chest like wildfire was to do the work she had been neglecting for the last, well, many days.

Last… 'Was it night?'… Evening probably, she would have cared enough to look around her room and find out just how wonderful the room was. But instead, she marched straight towards the only door that was opened. To her relief, it was a bathroom.

There was a large heavy coppery bath tub and Hermione cursed there was no shower. A bath tub with no tap, no less.

'Really? How exactly do they think I will be able to get this thing to work?' she raged silently. Yes, she probably hadn't gotten much sleep, even though it was surely past eight in the morning.

Even though the room they (the woman, as she decided to call her) sent her to looked semi-inviting, this bathroom looked horrible. Everything was dark, everything was cold. The only thing really standing out was the coppery red of the sink and the bathtub.

"Oh joy…" Hermione muttered to herself. Going back to her room for her wand, she was able to fill the sink with ice-cold water and at least wash her face.

Even though the last time she ate had been during yesterday's afternoon tea, Hermione was by no means hungry. Instead, she hunted down her stationary and few pieces of parchment. Taking her raven quill, she began to write.

_Dear Neville,_

_Thank you for the invite. It is indeed very kind of you to invite me to stay with you and your grandmother during the holidays. I do not want to decline the offer, which might be a bit selfish on my part but as it stands right now, I just do not know whether I will be able to come or not. I have made some discoveries which are rather sensitive to be discussed via mail. But rest assured, I'm quite well and with a roof over my head, which incidentally, belongs to me and my family. _

_The photograph is wonderful. Thank you._

She wasn't able to write more on that topic. Those few faces that were now eternally sleeping because of 'daddy issues' were enough to make her blood boil and precisely _that_ she wanted to avoid today. So taking one deep breath and shaking her head to rid herself of those many stray thoughts, she began to write again.

_I should say I am glad that Umbridge was found but I really cannot find it in myself to be sincere about it. However, I am very pleased to hear that your grandmother has backed off (however bad that might sound) and has started to treat you like the person you really are. Do believe in yourself, Neville, and you'll see that she believes in you too. _

_There are so many things, peculiar things, I will get to tell you when I see you again but alas, I am not able to say when that would be. At the longest, we will meet at Hogwarts Express. _

_Please, send my regards to your grandmother and keep looking forward to my owl,_

_Hermione_

One letter down, another few to go. Writing letters… that was the way Hermione spent the next few hours. One to Harry, one to the twins explaining why she had left, one to the Weasley red head just out of obligation. And one to Andromeda, thanking her for a pleasant afternoon.

Was there any sincerity in all that she had written? She didn't want to know exactly how hypocritical she had been in her letters. Looking at the small stock of paper that were her letters, she warmed up some sealing wax. Writing the recipient names she realised she hadn't used the seals she was given by the goblins.

But that was a good decision, wasn't it? Harry wouldn't even notice, and if he did, he wasn't trained in recognising family insignia. So that gave him one less thing to worry about. Ronald would freak out, he still came from a strangely bigoted pureblood family. Neville well, she still wasn't exactly sure where _he_ stood… and Andromeda? Hermione believed the older witch was above such things as silly family seals.

"Flipsy?" Hermione called for the house-elf that had recognised her as her mistress yesterday.

"Mistress called!" The little creature squeaked.

"Are there any owls at the castle?" Hermione still didn't have one and therefore she still had to rely on school owls, which surprise, surprise, weren't available at the Black castle.

"No Mistress, all of the family owls were let free when late Master Pollux died." Flipsy answered, wringing her tiny arms.

"I see, could you please deliver these for me?" Hermione asked, not really knowing the strength of the wards that surrounded the recipients' houses.

"Of course Mistress!" the elf squealed with glee, happy it could serve her mistress well.

"And will you be able to get through the wards?" she just wanted to make sure…

"Yes of course, elf magic Mistress, Mistress's command!" that brought a smile to Hermione's face. They really were wonderful creatures.

"Okay then, Flipsy, now listen carefully. This one is to Neville Longbottom, who I believe lives in the Longbottom manor. They are an old family so there should be other house-elves. Give that to them and they'll give it to him."

Hermione wanted to make sure Flipsy wouldn't be seen wandering around. One, it was dangerous, and two, it would add to a bit of mysteriousness to her person and well, she couldn't resist.

"This one is to Harry Potter. Now, you can't be seen in his house. His relatives are rather… unsavoury and it wouldn't do him well if you got caught" now this was for Harry's benefit. She knew how it went down when Harry's uncle encountered Dobby and she would be very glad if they could prevent such a situation from ever happening again.

"And, if Harry sees you, you will not speak, agreed?" Hermione made her last wish quite distinct. She wouldn't have Harry question her house-elf. That would go down well indeed.

"Yes Mistress." Flipsy nodded her tiny head in earnest, her floppy ears bouncing up and down.

"Now, these are the letters to the Weasley's" she gave her two letters this time, relying on the elf's ability to sense which one's which.

"The one to the twins put on the bed I slept in... whereas the one to Ronald… put that on his bedside table, if he has one... if not... just somewhere he can see it would be suffice." She really didn't care if he read it or not, she only saw it as an item on her checklist. And if he was rude enough to accuse her of ignoring him whole summer, then well, she would have an answer accusing him of the same.

She still wondered how he was able to write sometimes...

"Lastly, this one is for Andromeda Tonks. You can give this to her personally if you find her at home. If not, put it on the dining table."

"Yes Mistress!" Flipsy smiled a huge smile, almost managing to split her face in halves.

Hermione smiled indulgently at the elf. Peculiar creatures, indeed. "Thank you Flipsy"

With one last grin, the house-elf popped away.

* * *

**A/N: Sooo, what do you think? Moving forward with the story and all that. I hope you liked it. Next time will be her dealing with all that she owns and... spoilers! I hope you enjoyed reading :)**


	20. Change

Now, after the letters had been delivered, Flipsy had made it her goal to persuade Hermione to let her prepare some food. When Hermione finally relented and ordered whatever Flipsy thought was good (but reasonable, she didn't want a feast), she looked out of the window into the rainy world that was to be that day.

She wasn't able to see much because of the heavy rain and from time to time, she jumped up when an incredibly bright, almost purple flash of lightning smashed across the sky, accompanied by the heart-stoppingly loud thunder clanking far off.

Sighing, she put the folder she was given at Gringotts yesterday on the table. She had hoped that there wouldn't be much to read through. However, she couldn't be farther from the truth.

Once she opened it, the extension charm has become her sole enemy. Not really knowing when the end was and getting annoyed by her inability to pull out all of the legal documents, she took her wand and emptied it with one flic of her wrist. Which probably hadn't been her best idea.

As if the wind blowing outside managed to get inside, exactly like that (or at least very similarly) did it look like in her room afterwards. Parchment was literally everywhere – on the floor, on her bed, in her hair, somehow, it managed to stick itself to the wall.

Cursing surprisingly loudly and colourfully, Hermione looked inside the folder. 'At least it's empty now…!' she thought to herself as she looked around the mess she'd created.

Picking up a random piece of paper, she realised she was looking at a betrothal contract between one Narcissa at that time still Black and the despicable piece of wizard flesh – Lucius Malfoy. Not knowing whether to laugh or despair, she let it fall back to the floor. Rummaging in her incredible array of spells, she realised she did not know any that would aid her with arranging such an amount of papers.

Didn't the goblins tell her that this was all she would need for a while?

Hermione began to fear exactly how many other documents there were.

Sighing, she sat down on a chair and twirled her wand above her head, thinking the spell that would at least pile up all of the parchment at one place. When the heap was finished, it reached just about 3 feet.

And so she began the tedious process of arranging the parchment in different piles on the floor. Family members' matters, bank and financial statements, business contracts, property registers, expenses of the Black family, and many, many more. And of course, even though it was arranged to some extent, she had the Black matters mixed up with the Arcey documents. 'Wonderful…!' she sighed, her head already aching.

It was… heart-breaking in a way. She had such a tangible proof that her family had existed, both of them. It was all there, on the paper, written in rich, never-fading black ink, sometimes signed by blood of her ancestors. But that was it, they were by no means her ancestors. And they were not her descendants either.

It was all so very complicated. Plopping down on the floor in a very un-ladylike manner, she put her head in her hands. That was the crux of the problem, wasn't it? She was just a name in a family, a name most of the members of said family didn't even know about. From what she had gathered from the Black men expression, she was some kind of a myth.

For a moment she allowed herself to despair as panic slowly consumed her. What was she going to do? She asked herself that question over and over again but unable to find her answer.

The storm that was waging inside her mind was interrupted by a squeaking of a house-elf.

"Your lunch is ready, mistress" Flipsy informed her and Hermione looked up to meet those tennis-ball like eyes. She had become a mistress to this little being.

So many things were changing and Hermione with them. Her mind wasn't able to comprehend it.

Change.

Change.

Change.

Like the ticking of a clock on a wall, it all changed, again, again and again.

Against her will.

* * *

The storm was still going strong outside. It had been three days since Hermione arrived at the Leeds castle, not that she counted. She didn't venture much outside of her room, the imposing building gave her the creeps. Sometimes, when she woke up at night, she could hear mad cackling echoing in its walls.

'Am I going crazy?!' she asked herself as she laid unmoving on her bed, listening to the creaking of the old floorboards, windows trying to withstand the onslaught of wind that came with the storm. Cackling, a mad woman cackling.

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, she was too wrung up to even attempt it. Sighing, she sat up and wrapped herself in the thick blanket.

In the last few days she managed to go through all of the Black matters, bar the bank accounts and financial statements that is.

She found out that she was related to Harry, in a way. His grandmother had been a Black, Dorea Black. She found out that there's been an investigation of sorts into why Blacks weren't able to survive the ninety years, mark. Most of them didn't even make it past 80. Since Cygnus Black I. married Ella Max, their usual lifespan of around 140 (which in some cases went as far as living more than 200 years) became 75. And, well, that was one of the few and only interesting things Hermione managed to find in the horde of parchment.

Shaking her head trying to stop herself from thinking of too many theories as to why did they die so 'young' Hermione realised she would need to write down a plan.

* * *

_A/N: I know this is a rather short chapter. Currently I'm faced with a problem that's hard for me to crack... It's already almost a year since I began writing this story. And unfortunately, I completely lost myself in my plot. It's not that I don't know what to write, but me and my characters changed so much that I'm not completely sure I can get over it. It doesn't mean that I'll stop writing... That would probably kill me. But I wanted to apologise to those who feel that this story and especially Hermione is not what she was in the beginning. _

_On a more positive note, I thank you very much for all your support you've shown me throughout posting this story and please keep doing so. For me as an author and surely there are others who feel the same, it is very important to get feedback on your work. _

_Love sends your author_


	21. The Unforgiven

_A/N: So today, I sat down and made myself write while listening to the most melancholic music I was able to find. And here's the result. _

* * *

She was afraid of failing. That was for sure. Failing… but whom would she fail? Herself? Or Sirius's memory? She didn't know, she only knew about the fear that gripped her insides at times. To her, it felt like a vice clutching her intestines together. It was crippling. It was paralysing. It created mayhem inside her mind.

She had been used to order, things going her way. People thought about her what she wanted them to. If she made herself out to be an insufferable little know-it-all, people believed her act. If she wanted to intimidate Snape into helping her, she had no problem playing the most terrible human being (or is Voldemort still a human being?). Manipulating Dumbledore… It all had been an act. Her whole life – a theatre performance with her in the lead role.

But as soon as she met one Sirius Orion Black… He was the first person that happened to glimpse what she hid behind the walls she so carefully constructed. And he didn't even need her confirmation of his assumptions. He just _knew. _

Sometimes, when she woke up at night, sweating from her nightmares, she would curse the day she looked into his steely grey eyes. If she hadn't met him, she wouldn't need to deal with this never-ending feeling of destruction. She would never see her life crumble like a frail house of cards.

Her life… it had all been a game to her. A performance, a game of chess, you may call it what you want and you wouldn't be wrong.

Only now did she realise that she had to drop the act to get somewhere. That she would need to lose all her various conflicting smokescreens she let only certain people see. What use was it anyway? Bottom line, she didn't care what they thought about her. Or did she? No… probably not.

She only held onto the notion that it did matter.

Yes, it was confusing for her. That sudden loss of whatever self-appreciation she had. The sudden realisation that nothing really mattered in the end. No use saying that these thoughts consumed her when she was trying to run away from Bellatrix's cackle resounding throughout the castle.

It was all jumbled up, a true mayhem.

Chaos.

Change.

Anguish.

And she didn't know what to hold on to.

The only thing she could rely on was her magic, that was the only thing the world, the higher power, didn't manage to take away from her. And so she clung to it like a child to its mother's leg when it was afraid.

And she _was_ afraid. Of herself, of the world, of those expectations of gigantic proportions. Telling herself that it would all be all right someday didn't help. It never really did.

When she was younger, her only escape had been her stories, her alternate realities with the Grangers as her parents. Lies that she weaved like the most experienced seamstress.

She did accomplish a lot of things. But in the end, they all did look right through her. They never bothered to ask, she was so good at her act that people just forgot to ask.

Did she want it to change? Did she want to act as if all that had happened to her never mattered, as if the person she had been before never existed and she just – skipped those seventeen years of her life, her memory unable to recall anything and everything that happened in that time period?

Well of course she did…

Would it solve anything? No, it would not.

After a while, she had absolutely no concept of time. Since she had read through all those documents the goblin's had given her, she just lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling, her wand clutched in her long skinny fingers. No thought on her mind.

Food? Yes, sometimes Flipsy managed to persuade her mistress to eat something, but that happened rather scarcely. And in most cases, she flipped out at the poor house-elf which resulted in Flipsy's avoidance of Hermione's room.

Yes, she let her melancholia consume her. She let the ache in her heart eat away all her will to live. To put it bluntly, she was waiting for the day she would finally die.

The dreams with Sirius didn't come anymore. Actually, when she had told him her name – that was the last time she dreamt of him.

Falling… Failing… Pain… And screams… that was all she dreamt about.

There was no life left in her eyes. They were dull, just like the greyish sky right before the storm. No more passionate blue, no more spark.

From time to time, a tear would fall down her face, then another, and another.

She would begin to sob.

But she didn't know why she cried anymore. How was it possible that she had any tears left? How was it possible to feel pain when there was no heart in her chest?

She couldn't cling to her fantasy anymore, and that had destroyed her.

As a young innocent child, she could pretend her parents were dentist, now she knew that she had been born thousand years ago and because of blood magic (she was not stupid, that was the only option how this was possible) she ended in the twentieth century.

When she was an unexperienced teen, she could feign her utter ignorance of thinking with your heart and only rely on her brain. But she got to know what it meant to think with your heart, and consequently losing everything in one slip of a second, with one sentence beginning 'I'm so sorry…'.

Mayhem of thoughts.

It was better not to think then. It was better to renounce those memories. It was better to deny.

But then, it didn't make sense to her, why was she feeling such pain, why was she unable to perform such an easy task as getting up from her bed?

She was not able to sleep because as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw two stormy grey eyes she pretended she didn't know.

She was not able to eat because when she swallowed the food, she didn't taste its deliciousness. Instead she tasted sorrow and unfairness. How dare she eat when he would never get the chance to savour the taste of food? But who was _he_?

It was in the first week of August when Flipsy had had it. She couldn't watch what her mistress put herself through anymore. As a house-elf of the Black family, she knew that it was imperative that her mistress survives whatever had happened to her.

Feeling the bonds that connected her to her family, she tried to find the one that was least damaged, the least crippled. She concentrated on that and felt herself land on cold wooden floor of someone's bedroom.

Andromeda was just about to fall asleep when she heard the distinct sound of a house-elf apparting to her bedroom. Her husband was already fast asleep, exhausted from his work.

Andromeda had always had a soft spot for house-elves. So instead of being angered by its sudden appearance, she asked for its name.

"I is Flipsy Miss Andromeda!" That was one of the house-elves' gifts. They never forgot a face, and if the person belonged to 'their' family, they were able to recognise them at any age.

"Oh, that's right!" Andy responded kindly. "We haven't seen each other in a long time…" she said, wondering why Flipsy was here, at her home. Could Hermione have sent her?

"What can I do for you, Flipsy?" she finally asked the elf.

"Miss Andromeda must come with me!" Flipsy began to panic, feeling her bond to Hermione weaken by the second.

"What's going on Flipsy?" Andromeda wanted to know, but she dared not speak loudly lest her husband woke up.

"Mistress is not well! Miss Andromeda must come help!" Flipsy squeaked, large tears rolling down its cheeks.

'Mistress?' Andromeda had no idea that there was a Mistress in the Black family since… but then it clicked. She had sent Hermione to the Black manor. So it must be…

"Oh no…" Andromeda wasn't even aware she said it loud.

Had she known Flipsy's reaction to her two short words would be flinging herself at her, she would have probably kept her mouth shut at all cost.

Gently extracting herself from the house-elf, she put on her clothes and penned down a short note to her husband, explaining her sudden departure. Holding out her hand, she waited for Flipsy to take it. And then, she was in the main hall of the Black castle.

Yes, when she was younger, this place had given her the creeps. But now, she paid no mind to the depressive surroundings.

"Which room?" she asked the house-elf, not wanting to loiter.

"The violet room in the west wing" The elf murmured sadly, probably realising only now she should have put her Mistress in a more luxurious quarters of the castle.

Not waiting for the house-elf, Andromeda took off in the direction of Hermione's room. On her way there, she passed many family portraits. And she tried to not pay them any attention. She would have accomplished the task, were it not for the portrait of her and her two sisters.

Because once she passed it, Bellatrix, seventeen at that time, had already learnt her distinct cackle and as soon as she saw her younger sister, the malicious laugh couldn't help but escape her throat.

Up in her room, Hermione shuddered when she heard it again. She didn't want to succumb to her nightmare again, but as soon as she heard that laugh, she closed her eyes and saw it again.

_A chamber, large cold chamber. Her feet which weren't hers stood on some kind of flat stone. And then she heard that laugh. She felt as a powerful blast hit her chest… falling, she was falling, failing. Then someone was shaking her. _

_In her subconsciousness, Hermione knew she was supposed to wake up. But she was falling, and she couldn't stop it. She tried to scream, she tried to get hold of a rope, anything that would prevent her from falling down. And the more she shook, the more she was losing her footing. _

_Then she lost all hope of rescue. _

_Falling._

_Failing._

_Falling down. _

_Long loud vail of pain and anguish. _

_Death._

_What I've felt,  
What I've known  
Never shined through in what I've shown.  
Never free.  
Never me.  
\- The Unforgiven, Metallica_

* * *

A/N: So what do you think? I really wanted to show the state Hermione's in right now. In other words, she's hit rock bottom. Fortunately for her (and me) she can go only up or straight from there. Personally, I hope it's the former. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! I'll gladly answer all of them.


	22. Lie and Truth

Hers and Bellatrix's eyes met for a short moment. And in that moment, Andromeda felt as if all her childhood filled with injustice upon injustice flashed right in front of her eyes. She didn't blame her father as much as she did her mother. Going up her family tree, she didn't wonder why her father was so obsessed with pure blood.

There was one misconception when it came to Andromeda Tonks and her opinions of her family. Yes, she hated their retrograde way of thinking but she had no issue with the men in her family. No, the male Blacks managed to at least hold one to the last sliver of common sense left in them. But the women? Those nasty vile creatures that got off the fact that they had snagged a Black? Those, Andromeda hated with immense passion.

There really was no question about how Bellatrix would turn out with a Rosier as a mother. She was the epitome of what muggles called the wicked witch. And because the first born wasn't a boy, their father lost interest in Bellatrix thusly leaving her in Druella's care. Fortunately for her, her father seemed to be rather interested in her upbringing which eventually led to her learning at least the basics of the family. But soon after, she met Ted and well, her mother didn't really take it all that well.

Yes, that was probably the only complaint as far as the Black men went. They were like puppets sometimes. Letting themselves be commanded by women with shallow minds! But no, she can't be thinking of her… family… right now. Now, she needs to find Hermione.

And as fast as she could without tripping on her robes, she ran towards the violet room.

Opening the door, she stepped inside.

There was no other way to describe it as entering a dungeon cell.

The curtains were drawn, she could barely see where she was walking. The air, she could barely breathe, there was so little oxygen that even the fire in the fireplace went out.

But the thing that frightened her the most was that she could hear nothing. There was no sound of breathing, of a heart beating, of sheets rustling. It was unnaturally quiet.

"Hermione?" but all that Andy would get as an answer was silence.

Stifling silence.

Waving her wand towards the curtains, she drew them back, allowing at least some of the night light inside. Briefly, for a fleeting moment she glanced around the room and found out there was paper everywhere. From what she could guess, there were legal documents but also incredible amount of notes. Not letting herself wonder about what this girl had been doing, she rushed towards her bed, managing to not destroy any of the parchment that was on the floor. But only just.

"Hermione!" Andy gripped the girl's shoulders in an attempt to shake her out of her dream world.

Thump, thump.

Now crying out her name, but Andy still could rouse her out of her unconscious state.

Thump….. Thump…..

"C'mon, wake up!" but as soon Andromeda took her into her arms, she realised her state had deteriorated far more than she had guessed.

Thump…..

Hermione's head fell back, limp hair falling in tow in a mess that resembled damp straw more than actual hair.

Thu…..

And in that moment Andromeda realised, Hermione was not breathing, her heart was not beating.

Yes, she could have started to beg the heavens to bring her back, she could have started to sob against her freezingly cold body, but that would have been another woman. That wouldn't have been Andromeda Tonks. However in that moment, she felt like a Black more than ever before. This girl was her family. And there was no stopping a (more or less sane) Black when it came to saving their family.

The next few moments were a blur of wand-waving and praying. Andromeda Tonks didn't remember exactly what she did, but the next thing she knew, Hermione was breathing and shaking with silent sobs in her arms.

Clutching the girl to her, she gently rocked from side to side, not minding the tears that fell from her eyes.

"Sssshhh" Andy tried to soothe the young woman that was still shaking.

"I… I…" Hermione tried to speak but all that led to was even more crying, even more sobbing. And once she started, she could not stop.

She was so terrified she would fall asleep again. And an even more frightening thought was that there was something calling to her, something making her close her eyes for a second time this evening.

"Hermione!"

But it was no use, Hermione was slowly succumbing to the world of no pain, to the world of no feelings. The world called the Afterlife. The world ruled by the ancient Greek god slowly enveloped her in those dreary tatters of Hades' coat.

* * *

Death, people are afraid of it. And more than usually, people are afraid of things they do not understand. Therefore it is a sane conclusion to claim that people do not understand death.

Take a jump from a rooftop, for example. There's a slight possibility that you'd survive it, depending on the way you fall. It may leave you crippled for the rest of your life, sure. But technically, you could survive it.

People view death the same way. Those who are unafraid of it, or at least do not fight the inevitability of it, have accepted whatever denouement death may bring - whatever impact their jump may have on their life.

However those who have not come to terms with death, be it their fear of becoming nothing (which paradoxically, is unfounded, because once you become nothing, you don't _care_ anymore) or any other reason they've come up with, those people don't usually find time to deal with the notion of death.

They stand on the rooftop, look down, head spinning. And they shake their head. "No, not today they say"

Until they are faced with it that is. Until they are just about to take the one step that would make them another victim of the heartless bitch called gravity.

Even though Andromeda had lived through the first Great War in their world, even though she managed to outlive most of her family, she had never really wondered about death. Though now, as she stared at Hermione's limp body, she couldn't help but think about how cruel death really was. Deep inside, she only now realised that death, death is the sweetest redemption. But also, the most painful wound that can be inflicted upon you.

_Life asked Death "Why do people love me, but hate you?" Death responded "Because you are a beautiful lie, and I'm a painful truth." - unknown author_

* * *

_A/N: Please don't hate me! I know it's short. I know this may sound cheesy but while I was sitting on a swing and watching storm coming from behind the mountains, I got an idea, and this is what came of it. What do you think? How do you think it will continue? I would love to hear your guesses and opinions. _


	23. The Grandfather

She was in one of her most favourite rooms in Grimmauld place. It was neither the library nor her room where she had spent so much time during the summer before her fifth year. And surprisingly, it was not the study where she had learnt a lot, and that means really a lot of magic.

It was the small-ish (if anything can be small when it comes to the Black family…) living room with that cosy armchair. There were crackling logs of fire, but the heat they gave just about warmed the room so it wasn't chilly.

"Sooo, you've decided that dying and giving up is the way to deal with things?" a voice interrupted her perusal of the room.

Yes, there definitely was someone sitting there, but she couldn't see their face. Only the top of their head that peeped out above that fluffy armchair.

"What?!" Hermione asked, not really knowing which emotion to feel. Then settling on confusion.

"You heard me!" the man, yes it was a man, answered her.

"Excuse me, but I'm not dead" Hermione snapped at him, affronted that he would get such a ludicrous notion.

"Oh trust me, you are _not _dead… yet at least" for some reason, he seemed to be very angry with her. And even so, why was he talking about her dying? She had not been wounded or… Actually, when Hermione thought about it, she couldn't really remember what she had been doing prior to this… conversation is the word but that, whatever that was, did not feel like a conversation to her. More of a huge accusation of her – what did he call it? Yes, giving up, that was it.

"May I at least ask WHO is accusing me of giving up?" Hermione demanded in the most contemptuous yet polite tone. Or at least she made an attempt, she thought after she heard her anger clear in her voice.

"Well, you _may_ ask, doesn't mean I'll tell you…"

Normally, she wouldn't be so aggressive, she would actually mind that the person probably didn't want to be seen when he was sitting with his back turned to her. She would keep her cool and not act like an angry child whom a candy was denied.

However, her patience has just about run out. While huffing like an angry and immature child as much as was even possible she marched towards the person sitting in the armchair and stared him in his face.

"Oh! Interesting! ... An attempt at, ah what do you call it these days… Yes, an attempt at being the one in charge here. I must say, a very feeble one at that. Though you are clever one, you should have known that even before I said that. Am I not right, dear?" he asked her, and smirked subsequently when he realised he would be getting no answer from her.

"I would offer you a seat, but alas, there's only one chair." However when he saw her checking her pockets, he added, more to her benefit then his "No magic here, dearie"

Hermione huffed at that. Where had she picked up on such an annoying habit…? - She asked herself as she stared at the men sitting in the armchair. He was neither young, nor old. His hair was black, but on second thought, it looked more like pepper black than the rich raven's black. There was no question whether he was a wizard – he was wearing what appeared to be custom made robe of Acromantula silk.

"And huffing and puffing and whatever other reaction you may or may not think of using expelling air out of your lungs will get you exactly nowhere…" he teased her, but to her it seemed more like he was laughing at her.

"Why exactly am I here?" She asked finally, annoyed at her inability to think of any plausible reason.

"Why indeed…" the man, wizard, wondered aloud. And then, finally after what seemed hours upon hours of stroking his beard (did she mention he had a rather old-fashion beard?) he began his explanations. Or was it an interrogation?

"You do have knowledge of the _Veil_?" he asked her.

When she thought that she had managed to keep her mind off that one, precisely and only one topic, he just had to mention that damned piece of see through carpet!

"Y-yes" she managed to somehow stammer out.

"Oh for Merlin's sake woman! I've had had enough of your moping around. I've had to listen to my daughter vail like a banshee because she sent you too far into the future. And then you come, comatose for a week then some kind of denial, really now? And a phase of I don't even know wh- Is that a tear? Is it? I dare you to start crying! I dare you!"

Hermione really did not know what was going on inside that man's head. Was he bat-shit crazy? Or did he fall onto his head when he was a child? Was there not a single one compassionate bone in his body? Probably, no. Or if you looked at it chronologically, then her answers would be yes, yes and no. Yay! She had scored maximum.

Unfortunately for him, Hermione wasn't currently in the best of moods. Already annoyed at her inability to leave this wretched room she used to love.

'Thanks mate! Really, great thanks for spoiling this room for me!' those and similar thoughts had crossed her mind since he started talking. Or rather, since whoever decided that she needed to be stuck in a room together with such a wretched man.

But now, she was just really trying to keep it together. "Why are you so heartless?" she cried at him with desperation.

"Me? Heartless? Oh please. If it weren't for me you'd be living in the Middle Ages!"

In that moment, her thoughts made a complete one-eighty.

"Wait, what?" Hermione blurted out.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, the wizard sighed. "Now, Cassiopeia. I really am a very, very patient wizard. I really am. But I will not suffer this non-sense behaviour from you!"

Oh how she wanted to tell him where exactly he could shove his non-sense. The words were on the tip of her tongue but she managed to stop them there. Taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself as much as was humanly possible. She would need her calm to be at least civil to this 'man'.

As if he hadn't said that slightly insulting sentence, he answered her 'rude' question.

"Your mother, my daughter – which who would have thought, makes you my grand-daughter, was supposed to get you out of the influence of your father of what I call a boisterous nature. However, a Black she was, she managed to find a loophole in our agreement and sent you to the future. There's nothing a little blood and powerful magic cannot manage." He said proudly.

"Interesting – "Hermione began, wanting to get all high with him but in the end thought better of it. "I am slightly confused… You said that because of you, I'm not living in the Middle Ages. Thank you for that, grandfather" yes, she wouldn't forgive herself if she let go of her sarcastic remark. "But if I recall it correctly – mother had found a loophole, meaning it really wasn't your plan in the end that ensured me living in what for you is the future…"

What a shame that she wasn't more skilled in this intimidation-Black-politics-manipulation-whatever thing her grandfather was so good at.

"Who said it wasn't?" he objected.

Hermione realised then, it really didn't matter now if it was his idea or not. Surprisingly, she didn't question the truth of him being her grand-father. There was this familiar feeling she got while looking into his eyes. As if she had known him forever.

"Back to the topic we've started with" and already seeing her getting pale, he couldn't control the remarks that while he had been alive, managed to get him into quite a few… misunderstandings.

"For the love of all that's enchanted, stop paling at the mention of that bloody thing!" he said, more shouted than said actually.

"How can you say that!" Hermione shouted back. "He fell through it and he's never coming back!" tears of both anger and sadness rolled down her cheeks.

Her grandfather's eyes almost fell out of his head. And then he began to laugh. He laughed so hard that he doubled over. When he finally got hold of himself again, he had to wipe the tears of laughter that managed to gather in the corners of his eyes.

Then he looked at her, really looked at her. Eyes brimming with compassion, the gentlest of smiles spreading on his face. She looked like a haggard doll to him. So lost, so sad. He probably should have thought of it.

"Cassiopeia dear, what exactly do you know about the Veil?" he asked her, adapting the grandfatherly tone Dumbledore always tried for but never quite managed.

"Not much, really… Only that it's the barrier between the world of the living and the world of the dead…" Hermione said very quietly, almost whispering the last word.

"Yes, well, it seems that those Unspeakables of your _magnificent_ Ministry have gotten it wrong." He remarked in a very by-the-way tone.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, not daring herself to hope, not daring even to think of a slightest possibility that… no, she had to stop her thoughts right there.

"What I mean is that… Please tell me that someone told you about the Quintet and Septet…" he really was near despair. How was it possible that his girl knew so little about her legacy?

"Yes, the goblins –" she started to say that yes, she had heard of it but was very soon interrupted by her grandfather.

"Excuse me dear, but did you say goblins?" her grandfather wondered, affronted that no one explained to her the importance of her family to her.

"Now wait here… You acted as if you knew everything! You know Sirius fell through the Veil, but you don't know that the goblins had to explain to me what the Quintet was? What a Septet and Quartet were?" Hermione was angry. She got the feeling he was playing another omniscient bastard.

"Mind your voice, Cassiopeia! No, surprisingly I'm still not omniscient. I know about Sirius because I've spent a lot of my time talking to him while he's waiting. I don't have the slightest knowledge of what goes on in the world. Unfortunately for me, I get the news with a fifty-year delay!" He was angrier at his inability to scheme his way through afterlife than at her ignorance of various quirky family heirlooms.

"I'm sorry, grandfather. I just have a rather bad experience with people who…" She paused herself there, not really knowing how to describe Dumbledore to him.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, so many answers she sought.

"It's quite all right dear, but you should work on that nonchalance of yours. I believe it's time I stopped my usual chit-chat" her grandfather announce rather pragmatically. She expected him to say their time to talk was over, but once again, she had been wrong.

"Do you have any questions for me? I promise I won't stray off topic. Much." He added with a grin that seemed very foreign on his face. And yet, it added some of that much needed grandfatherlyness to his person.

"Yes…" She started, not quite sure about whether it was such a good idea to bombard him with her questions all at once.

"Go on then" he smiled at her and all her previous nervousness vanished.

"So, this is the afterlife?" was her first question.

"Yes, but at the same time no. And a lady does not begin her sentences with a 'so'. Now, back on topic. You see, well, you already know, that time is a rather peculiar thing. A moment may be played over and over again. But you would become a spectator to every previous moment you've already lived through." He tried to explain, but worried he didn't make a good job. That had never been his strong side – explanations. Who needs explanations anyway? Paradoxically, he would always make time to explain things to his granddaughter.

"I'm familiar with the concept of time, it's flow…"

"While it is true that you're just about to die" seeing her horrified expression he hastened "The moment just before our death is playing over and over, giving us infinite time to work things through – all things that weigh on your mind."

That made much more sense to her…

She didn't want to die per se, she just didn't have anything to live for anymore. Feeling that too known pain come forward, she quickly changed the train of her thoughts.

"So, if I'm not dead yet, how is it possible that I'm able to speak with you?"

"That is purely because of magic. Some get to see their life flash in front of their eyes just before die, others... nevermind the others – in your case, you get to speak with your relatives! Isn't that exciting?"

"As if I didn't get that chance right after I die…" Hermione muttered under her breath so the old man would hear. But he was not really an old man. He had impeccable hearing.

"No, actually, no one is able to ascertain what happens after your death. Everyone's afterlife is different. My and my family's is the same, but I can't say what happens to other families… So you should be grateful that you get to get some answers! You're part Arcey, who knows where you'll end up!"

It seemed to Hermione that he had some serious anger management issues. But that would probably happen to everyone who spent too much time around Blacks.

"Any more questions?" he prodded, already knowing that once she would begin her questioning she would never stop. Hermione smiled that dangerous smile of hers. Yes, she had questions. And she was looking forward to have them answered.

* * *

_A/N: SO, how about this? You were right, I was getting too much angsty and forlorn with her character. But it was important to understand just how much crushed she had been. Look at Harry and what Sirius's death did to him in the books. And Hermione is a girl who was in love with the man, bound to him in ways others could never understand. But she needed a wake-up call (as did I) and her grandfather is precisely what she needed._


	24. The Grandfather Part II

"Any more questions?" he prodded, already knowing that once she would begin her questioning she would never stop.

"As a matter of fact, I do have quite a _few_ questions…" Hermione said.

"Well?" Her grandfather prompted her to start asking.

"Your manipulation seems to be going rather far away from your grave. So, what exactly did you hope to achieve by sending me to the future?" Hermione asked, going straight to the point unabashedly.

Her grandfather's brow rose in disbelief. He might have underestimated the courage the tiny girl had hidden inside of her. But well, she _was_ a Gryffindor and that had to be based on something. He only hoped it wasn't abandon of reason and self-preservation.

"Well, to begin with, you were extremely powerful, even as a week old child. Having a father like you did, impulsive, a man who was controlled by his greed and lust for voluptuous women, you would have been consumed by the power your life – even in the Middle Ages – might have brought you. People will bow to you – " to that Hermione gave him a look of utter incredulity.

" – don't you look at me like that young lady, you should be glad I suffer your rude behaviour as it is. Yes, people will bow to you and people will look up to you as if you were their queen."

There was a moment of silence. Hermione had stopped looking at him a long time ago, favouring the grey view a nearby window offered. She wondered about the words he had said, about her being some kind of a, well, she didn't even know how to name it.

"As for your question why I wanted you in the future, your family – the Arceys, have always managed to attract darkness. Do not get me wrong, they did not murder people like maniacs, even though, there had been one Arcey extremist, though he had been dealt with…"

"Who?" Hermione asked, liking the option of steering away from the main subject – her.

"Your brother" her grandfather said as a matter of fact and then, surprisingly, continued with the previous topic.

"The Arceys, they were the ones who bound magic to wands and I am of that belief that because of that act, magic itself wants to enact some kind of a revenge. In the time you were born, the melancholy of your blood began culminating, and therefore, we've – yes, even your Arcey grandfather was in on the plan – we've decided that it would be better you grew up far away from your family."

"So you imperioed my mother, gave her the terrific idea that it would be better to send me far away from the place you found yourself in. You couldn't have done the deed yourselves since there is not a stronger connection than the one between a mother and its child. Her blood was my blood, her magic, to an extent was my magic." Hermione concluded. She was not angry, she didn't blame her grandfather. No, she could never blame her grandfather. He was _family. _

"Quite…" her grandfather confirmed her suspicion. Well, she was sure it had been that way so all he had done was fill out the silence that managed to build up. "Next question"

"Why would people bow to me?" Hermione asked finally, her voice soft, supple.

"Because our world is not meant to be led by a Ministry, nor by Voldemort, nor by Dumbledore. It's ingrained in our blood to follow traditions – not to say we do not welcome innovation, no, it's more of an adherence and loyalty to our forefathers. And your family, even though it was part of a Quartet, Septet at times, was still the one who was at the top. The one to make the decisions, the one to bare the weight of their decisions on their shoulders. You hold an incredible amount of power and you do not even know of it. But you feel it, deep inside, you know how to bend other people so they do what you want them to do, you know what's good for them, however selfish and biased that may sound."

Hermione didn't have to think much about what he was saying. It seemed to her as if he had spoken to a different part of her, a part of her that had always been there but her been stomped upon and smothered into oblivion. And that part of her accepted his words without question and understood them.

"What is it that I do now?"

"Only _you_ know what comes next. It all ends with you and the quintet again. However long that might take to achieve. I cannot tell you what to do because I know that you will see through any ulterior motive I might have." Her grandfather concluded glumly, obviously upset that he couldn't play with anyone's lives at the moment.

"As a head of your and my House, what is expected of me?"

"In the beginning, you need to unite the Blacks, and you cannot forget their children. Because your house is older than theirs, it will always take precedence."

"What about Bellatrix Lestrange, I cannot accept that wretched witch…!" Hermione spat out that cursed name.

"You are the Head now, and you decide what happens to her. The laws of the Wizengamot do not apply to old families such as ours. And she is obliged to listen to you. And if not, you are obliged to punish her as you see fit." The old Black said without emotion.

"When I was going through the documents the goblins gave me, I found out the Blacks payed a small fortune to find out what happened to their longevity. Do you know anything about that?"

"Yes a matter of fact I do. The Black family has always been bound by the universe – the stars, galaxies, and the dark _black_ sky and underworld. And once you break that bond, even in a name, the magic starts to disappear."

"So it's because of just a name?" Hermione asked, and immediately wanted to take it back. Her grandfather then voiced exactly the same arguments against her statement as her head had just created.

"No, it is not just a name. It is what other witches and wizards _call _you since you've been born. It's as much ingrained in your blood as magic is. Words are not _just_ words. They have power, they curse, they form your thoughts. Tell me Cassiopeia, how do you think it is possible that you respond to a name that you've known for only a month and have never used yourself but once or twice?"

Hermione didn't think he wanted her to answer and he truly didn't. Instead, he continued.

"However, Sirius and Draco might already be all right. If my arithmancy didn't leave me behind as my life did, then they both should live over two hundred years old."

Hermione turned around and stared out of the window again. She wished she would be able to see some movement outside. A flutter of leaves on a tree. A child playing on the street. But all she was able to see was a grey mist. Nothing moved and for a moment she thought she would choke on the stillness of this place.

"Tell me about the Veil" Hermione demanded in a cold tone. And her grandfather obliged.

"The Veil has been created during a now ancient ceremony of Samhain by the Blacks. On Samhain, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead becomes blurred and you can perceive it with your very eyes – it is a kind of shimmery air. And since the Blacks created it, they passed a little bit of their magic into it." Her grandfather paused for a moment, reminiscing in the old stories his grandmother had told him so long ago.

"Soon after, the Roman Empire waged war on the British Isles. Not only muggles, but even Roman wizarding families came and decided they wanted to usurp our land. Many Blacks were wounded back then, our family had been on the brink of dying out. Till then, the Veil was used for ceremonial and sacral death. Many members of the Quintet families passed away this way – because they chose to do so. But never a Black."

'So they infused the Veil with their magic… It didn't want to let them in? But Sirius did fall through the Veil…' Hermione tried desperately to find out what happened to the Blacks who crossed it but wasn't able to find a solution. She still knew too little about it.

"They weren't allowed to cross. Every time a Black attempted to fall, the Veil just disappeared. As if it had never been there to begin with. But then the bloody times came and one battle was fought near the Arch. There was no city of London back then, only fields as far as you could see. They had been cursed with ancient Greek hexes they didn't know how to heal. So they begged the Veil to let them die and end their suffering. And they fell…"

Someone was playing a piano in a distance. A melancholy sad tune that filled her with darkness. The waves of sound reached her body, reverberating her unmovable heartstrings. It became louder all of a sudden, a sound of a young streamlet cascading down sharp stones.

"…when the wars were over and Blacks had defended their land, those who had fallen through the Veil, fell back into the world of the living. Some were younger, some were older, some were wounded from their battles and some were healed with not a scratch on their bodies."

"So eventually, he will come back…" Hermione whispered, straining her ears to hear the wonderful melody once more.

'And nobody knows when' Hermione added in her mind.

"Time is a tricky thing Cassiopeia, especially when it comes to magic. Don't be surprised if you find yourself somewhere where you should not be…" Grandfather added with caution.

"Do you know about any such sudden occurrence?" Hermione wondered sceptically, not being sure whether the old man was pulling one of his older manipulative tricks on her or not.

"Not to my knowledge. But I do want you to be prepared, just in case…"

It was getting late and Hermione felt their time was coming to a close.

"Do _you_ have any questions?" She asked him finally and he cocked his head to a side. She hadn't realised it before but he looked like a king in his chair.

"I do have one and you have one too" he said critically. But she knew what he meant. There was one more thing left for her to ask him. But he would go first.

"Why did you chose Gryffindor when you could have gone to any house?" he voiced his question finally. That was the only thing he could not understand about her.

"At that time, Slytherin was out of the question because I had been a coward enough to think that a muggleborn would never survive between the snakes. Hufflepuff was out because I had an issue with being called a proud puff since I heard it said many times and quite condescendingly on the first time on the Hogwarts express. As for Ravenclaw, I like knowledge, I like to know things, but not for the sake of knowledge but so I can use it later on. And that left only Gryffindor for me to choose…" she explained, and realised that she had never quite thought about it this way. She had always thought that she had chosen Gryffindor because she wanted a challenge. However in hindsight she realised, that for her it had truly been the only option. If she were to choose now, it would be a tough nut to crack.

"Thank you Cassiopeia…" though Hermione did not know what for. "I believe our time is almost up, so it seems prudent to ask your last question"

"My father had to be killed, as did my brother. Down the line, will I have to be killed, too?" Hermione voiced her concern.

"You've always been slightly crazy." Her grandfather informed her sadly "and there's not much you can do about it. You hide it, because that is what you do. Now, after all that has happened and if I've calculated right, there will be darkness, craziness surrounding you on your every step. You are a genius Cassiopeia, but to every gift the nature gives you, it takes away something from you." The Black sighed.

He hadn't answered her question and she knew that it was very much possible that she would become the next Voldemort. And then they would wage wars against her. and in the end, kill her. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply in and out, wanting to calm her senses. Opening them, she wanted to say goodbye to him, ask him a favour but when her vision focused again, she stared into a tear-stained face of one Andromeda Black.


	25. The Dinner

**_A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews. I hope you all enjoy my next chapter._**

* * *

"Andromeda?"

"Oh! You're alive!" The otherwise almost always composed woman exclaimed with relief, a set of fresh tears running down her face.

"How long have you been here?" Hermione asked looking around the room. It was way too dark.

"Does not matter…" Andromeda smiled finally, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief to stop the tears. "You gave me a right fright for a moment!" She scolded her gently.

"Could you tell me what – what happened?" Hermione croaked, her voice suddenly dry. She knew she had been near death, talking with her grandfather was possible only that way. However, the last few weeks she spent in a state of complete delirium. She did not think of herself as deranged. Even though, now, who could know, who would be able to guess just how much mad she actually was?

"Your house-elf Flipsy came to get me… She was going out of her mind over you. And for a few moments, so have I" Andromeda Tonks exclaimed angrily.

"I'm – sorry" Hermione murmured after a while, the word sorry tasting rather strangely on her tongue. Ad if she shouldn't have ever said it.

"You do not mean that… and that's all right. There's nothing you need to apologise for, least of all to me. Does anything that hurt?" Andy asked. She had been a healer once and moreover, she always had that caring attitude in her.

Surprisingly, Hermione felt fresh vigour running through her veins, giving her long lost energy. Voicing that she was all right, she sat up on her bed. Funnily enough, her voice must have conveyed enough incredulity and astonishment at her own state that Andromeda believed her.

"What time is it?" Hermione rasped out, her throat parched. Immediately, Andy handed her a conjured glass of water.

"Here you go" she said gently. Meanwhile, the huge grandfather clock in the hall announced two o'clock after midnight.

"I do not want to keep you away from your family" Hermione whispered after she had sipped all of the icy cold water.

"Nonsense!" Andromeda replied and added "You _are_ my family… I've left a note to my husband so he wouldn't worry." A gentle, mother's smile formed on her face and Hermione saw, no – more felt a memory flash in front of her eyes. Warmth spread through her chest and she couldn't help but smile back.

"I don't think you should go back to sleep, Hermione" Andromeda concluded after a while. She didn't want to tempt the fate. The memory of holding Hermione's limp body in her arms was still fresh on her mind.

The younger witch smiled a comprehending smile and indicated that she was about to get up. Andromeda appreciated the gesture since she didn't want to get smothered by the girl's covers as she did so many times by her daughter's.

Hermione saw Andromeda headed towards her door and promptly stopped her. "Would you mind terribly if you waited for me in my room? This castle is rather huge and I would like to avoid getting lost" she smiled and for a moment there, she seemed to Andromeda like a lost puppy. After Andromeda nodded in understanding, Hermione grabbed some things to wear and stepped into the bathroom with that large daunting mirror.

When she met her own eyes, she almost didn't recognise herself anymore. Long dark curly hair with light streaks framing her face lay limply framing her face with dull eyes. She had become impossibly pale.

"Add a cape and a scythe and you get the grim reaper" Hermione muttered under her breath sarcastically.

After she filled the bathtub with warm water, she washed her long hair, running her fingers through the wet tangled tresses, massaging her scalp. 'At least the last occupant of this room had good sense of smell' Hermione appreciated the relaxing salts and wonderfully scented shampoo.

However, she couldn't resist the small temptation. Slowly, she submerged into the water, holding her breath as long as was able to. Yes, she was just a bit mad. Her life was like the fluttering surface of the water she was looking at. Waiting to drown her. Beautifully distorted. A mosaic of feelings.

'How hard would it be to drown?' that thought quickly flashed through her mind but she was already standing up, already reaching for a nearby towel and patting her body dry. Waving her wand around her head, she left her hair soft and loosely bound in a crown braid. Pulling on her soft t-shirt and dark trousers, she looked a little bit better. But she still felt rather cold.

Barefoot, she stepped out of the bathroom to find Andromeda chatting softly with Flipsy. Her room had been cleaned and ordered, fresh air made it no longer seem so stuffy. Too lazy to rummage through the many drawers, she accioed her knitted woollen sweater, socks and a pair of shoes.

Hermione smiled at the scene she was seeing in front of her. For a moment, she felt saddened that Flipsy had never been quite as relaxed with her as she was with Andy.

"I asked Flipsy to make us dinner, I hope you do not mind"

"Not at all" Hermione replied and followed Andromeda out of her room. She realised that it should have been her, as the host of this house, to ask her elf to prepare something to eat and for a second she worried that Andromeda might she was crossing some arbitrary line.

Nevertheless, her thoughts took a different turn soon enough. This was the first time she was actually walking through this 'palace'. Every other time Flipsy had apparated her to wherever she wished to go which was surprisingly almost nowhere.

Her wand didn't emit enough light for her to see the whole hall, but even from the little she was able to see, she got the feeling that this was indeed a very dark place.

"I was always afraid of this place. My father had once told me that Phineas Nigellus redid the whole Leeds castle so it would fit the 'Salazar Slytherin' style. And this came out of it…" with that, Andromeda welcomed her in a huge dining room.

Candles had been already lit and Hermione was astonished that the little amount of flickering lights managed to illuminate the whole room. However when she looked closer, she found out there were small, almost unnoticeable mirrors all over the walls of the dining room. And when she looked up, it looked like the whole ceiling was flickering with stars.

Fortunately for both witches, there were no portraits in this dining room and their time dining there went undisturbed by any nasty family members.

As soon as both of them took their seats, a deliciously looking meal appeared in front of them. On beautiful dining sets of the most elaborate china Hermione had ever seen, roasted pork with potatoes was being served accompanied by seasonal vegetable. A carafe of red wine was brought soon after and for the first time, Hermione wondered if there were any other house-elves in this castle.

"Flipsy?" she called the elf after the small creature filled their crystal goblets with that Hermione assumed to be one of the best wines from the Black cellars.

"Yes, Mistress?" the house-elf turned to look at her with its huge tennis ball-like eyes.

"Are there any other house-elves?" Hermione enquired. It surprised her how alarmed the little creature became all of a sudden.

"Did we displease Mistress?" Flipsy squeaked, teary-eyed.

The small issue Hermione had with house-elves was the language they used – especially their lack of knowledge of grammar. She did not blame them for the mistakes they made. Not at all. But in situations like these it was very hard, indeed, for her to guess whether Flipsy talked only about herself in plural or about a multitude of house-elves.

"Not at all, Flipsy! Quite the opposite. This late supper looks marvellous. I've merely wondered whether you've been here all on your own these years or whether some other house-elves kept you company…" Hermione attempted to sound and appear her kindest.

"Me's very sorry Mistress! Flipsy is a bad elf! Flipsy is not supposed to misunderstand!"

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. She still didn't know why so many house-elves insisted on self-punishment.

"I do not want you to ever punish yourself again, Flipsy! AM I understood?" Hermione demanded of the little creature who only flapped its ears down meekly. "Now, please answer my question. Are you here on your own?"

"No Mistress, Flipsy had never been alone in the Black castle." The words rushed out of its little mouth, but still, Flipsy persistently stared at the floor.

Hermione had many other questions but decided to stop 'tormenting' Flipsy. For now.

Both woman ate quietly and for a while, nothing else could be heard apart from the clinking of silverware.

Hermione, though not able to ear much because of her self-imposed starvation that had shrunk her stomach, savoured every bite she took. The meat was juicy just enough to not be dry and the crisp potato peel simply melted on her tongue.

Putting the cutlery down, she reached for her glass of wine. The tangy burgundy red liquid flowed down her throat, leaving behind an earthy taste of wild berries and autumn. Deep in thought, Hermione licked her lips, catching the stray drops of the divine liquid. Steering her gaze towards Andromeda, she caught the older witch's attention.

"Andy, how is your family faring?" Hermione leaned back in her chair, and put her hands on her lap.

"They are well, thank you for asking." Surprisingly, there was sincerity in Andy's acknowledgement. She genuinely appreciated Hermione's interest. "My husband, since he's currently getting accustomed to working for the Ministry again, does have a lot to do…"

"For which department does he work?" Hermione inquired.

"He does love to change it once in a while" Andy laughed quietly "something to do with his boss, he always says…" she added and Hermione felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards.

"It's a wonder I manage to keep up. He changes departments like socks. Right now, I think it's the Department of Magical Transportation. Though I can never be quite sure."

Alone from the way Andromeda spoke about her husband, Hermione could easily deduced just how much he was adored by his wife. There was no distinct contempt for him for changing jobs so often and thusly creating certain instability in their life. No, it was quite the opposite and if Hermione had to take a guess, she would even go as far as to say that Andromeda encouraged her husband in doing so.

"And your daughter? How is _she_ doing?" Hermione wondered aloud. She had reached a dilemma though, on how to call the bubbly Metamorphagus. Surely, she couldn't call her Tonks in front of her mother and were she to call her Nymphadora, well, she was uncertain of the consequences.

It amazed Mrs Tonks how easy it was to converse with Hermione about such matters.

The change in Hermione since their last encounter was startling. Now, Hermione seemed more open and friendly. There was none of the coldness and harshness she remembered from July. Though she did wonder… 'Did she have some obscure ulterior motive?'

"Dora is doing as is to be expected – the DMLE have a lot on their mind right now. New head of the department, new Minister… And since the Ministry stopped burying their heads in the sand, Aurors are having a double the work load they were used to because of You-Know-Who and his merry men…"

'And even so, they will soon start pulling wool over public's eyes again…!' Hermione thought sadly. Sometimes, she was too much of a realist and pessimist. She was certain that even now, there were imperioed employees at the Ministry climbing up the ladder at a steady but sure pace. Until they reach the Minister himself.

"You don't say _his_ name?" Hermione asked with a speculative gleam in her eyes.

By now, Andromeda had finished her meal "No, I do not" she said a bit strongly, as if daring Hermione to accuse her of cowardice. However, Hermione was far from judging her.

"May I ask, why?" she voiced her question, cockling her head to a side contemplatively.

This was the first moment when Andromeda really thought about Hermione being her Head of House.

Since her husband, Edward Tonks, came from a Muggle family, he had no idea about ancient family customs. And she had done everything in her power to protect his ignorance of such things. Therefore, he had no idea he was supposed to claim her name, thusly making her a permanent part of the Tonks family.

Even though she had spent a part of her life as a stray, magically flailing with no family, she did have one now. Consequently, sitting there in front of her new Head of House, even if she didn't want to discuss such matters, she had to. True, nothing would physically happen to her if she refused. However, whether she liked it or not, whether she had spent her childhood secretly struggling against the world she was growing up in, she had been raised a proper lady. And as such, she couldn't imagine acting disrespectfully towards Hermione. And refusing to answer meant being disrespectful.

"I must confess that I've always been paranoid when it came to You-Know-Who… His followers call him the Dark Lord, which doesn't exactly float my boat... And only the most foolish ones call him by his name" Andromeda answered after a while, clearly deep in thought.

"Foolish?" Hermione rose her brow at that.

"Yes, foolish. Tell me if I am wrong, but _you_ call _him _by his name." seeing her nod, Andromeda continued "Have you ever noticed that every time you call him by his self-appointed title something – unsavoury tends to happen?"

Disregarding the small insult Andy threw her way, Hermione thought about what she had just said. She had never considered the fact that he might have jinxed his own name, the name he had so elaborately come up with. She had once been proud of her statement 'Fear of a name only increases fear in the thing itself!' But could there be some truth to what Andromeda was saying?

Both she and Harry said _his_ name so many times that surely the bad luck must have piled up since they had been introduced to the V-word. She knew she could never be sure whether it all had been just bad luck or some other vague magical consequence she had forgot to think about, forgot to consider.

"Did you know that _his _true name is Tom Riddle? Actually, he is not the sacred pureblood he made himself out to be, though there is truth to the fact that he claims himself to be Salazar's descendant. Tell me Andromeda, how is it possible that so many old families blindly follow such a maniac?"

A frown formed on Andromeda's aged but otherwise lovely face. Hermione wondered how she was taking what she had just told her. She might have known that Voldemort's precious family tree was just a mere farce. Therefore she may be thinking of why at least half their wizarding community that claimed to be pureblood swallowed his lies hook, line and sinker.

On the other hand, she might be surprised that he was a 'just' a half-blood. And in that case, she might think herself foolish to not see through his lies. Another scenario which Hermione considered, but thought the least possible, was that Andromeda desperately clung to her semi-Muggle life and refused to pay too much attention to the psychopath that was currently plundering their world. For her sake, Hermione hoped that this was not the case.

"I truly have no idea. Though I must admit, even I didn't question his background." Andromeda said, as if ashamed she hadn't see it coming.

'Now, that IS interesting…' Hermione thought. She supposed that not everyone was made out to question every sentence someone tells them, but she would have thought that someone who grew up as a Black would have some common sen- … no, she must not think like this.

Moving her arm so she could rest her elbow against the armrest, she ran her fingers against her lip in a musing manner. Wanting to continue this highly entertaining conversation, she prepared to speak but then thought better of it. She didn't think it would help either of them to continue at what seemed like half past three in the morning.

Looking closer, she realised that Andromeda looked rather tired.

"Flipsy" Hermione called after a while and within an instant, the house-elf appeared at her side.

"Could you please show Andromeda to her room, I believe she would appreciate a good-night's sleep" Hermione turned towards the small creature.

"And where would Mistress like me to take Miss Andromeda?"

Smiling Hermione ordered "Take her wherever she wishes"

Recognising the slightest worry in her guest's eyes, Hermione assured her "I will not turn in tonight. I believe I will go take a stroll through the gardens"

With a wish of good night, Andromeda exited the room leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She stood up as soon as she heard the click of the closing door. There were so many things to think about. So many things to consider and so little time left.


	26. The Council

_A/N: Dear readers, thank you all for your reviews. Before I let you read my next chapter, I wanted to mention a few things as a response to the last review I've got. As you surely know, I rather revelled in describing Hermione's desperation. Why? Partly because I wasn't able to find a thread which would pull me out of the gloom of that string of chapters, and partly because I've felt that way a little. Funny thing about writing fanfiction is that for me, it reflects what I am feeling in that moment. I will not rewrite it though, I think it's instrumental for you, me and Hermione to suffer for a while. Another point, that has been mentioned a second time since I began writing was the large age difference between Sirius and Hermione. I believe that everyone is entitled to their opinion. At the same time, I wanted to defend my story for a little bit :). I believe that Sirius entered Azkaban prison when he was about 21. My theory of the Azkaban prison is that it freezes your soul for the amount of time you're there but at the same time, your body ages. Therefore for me, even though he had suffered for twelve years in that ghastly place, he had aged only a few years. Also, for those who know the trivia, it has been said many times that wizards and witches live much longer than muggles - sometimes well into their 300s. So I really don't get what the big deal with the age difference is. _

_Sorry, I had to get that out there. Now, here's the next chapter!_

* * *

What she had said to Andromeda had been true, she was by no means going back to bed tonight. Some of it was her fear that she would not be able to wake up again. Partly because even though it was almost five in the morning, she wasn't tired in the least.

The dawn illuminated the frosty garden with chilly light. Calling for Flipsy, she asked her to show her the easiest way to the gardens. Walking through a few halls and staircases, she found herself on the fresh air in a matter of minutes.

She was glad she had decided on dressing warm today. It looked like the sky would be covered with grey, stormy clouds for all eternity and she certainly didn't fancy getting a cold.

Spotting a bench nearby, she dried it with her wand and sat down. The air she breathed chilled her lungs, but she welcomed the crispy air. This summer had been – strange? She – she didn't know – .

Hermione knew, now was not the time for melancholy. She needed to stop wallowing in her misery. She even had reasons to look forward to the future. One –skinning Bellatrix alive was high on her agenda, two – from what her grandfather had told her Sirius would be coming back to her. The only problem was she didn't know when. It might be today, it might be in ten years.

Shaking her head to rid herself of these dark thoughts, she fixated on the fact that her Sirius would be coming back no matter what. BACK! A laugh escaped her, a strange sound to her ears. She had grown accustomed to the fact that she would never ever laugh again, reconciled herself with the fact that death was coming for her. To an extent, she even willed herself to die. But now, she couldn't leave this world while knowing that if she did, she would leave him all alone. Yet again.

Hermione didn't care she looked like a madwoman, twirling between the many trees and hedges, laughing like a loon.

Knowing she had to get some order into her life again, she purposefully strode towards the castle. She had got enough cold air for one day.

She didn't want to stay here any longer, that much she was certain of. The only thing that was ruining her plans of escape was that she didn't know where she was to go. There were so many houses and places she now owned and that made her decision even more difficult.

Somehow, she managed to find her way safely into her room where she started to look for the list of properties she owned. And after a few minutes of fruitless rummaging in between the many papers, she finally found it.

_Property of Hermione Cassiopeia Arcey-Black on British soil_

Further inspection of 'her' real-estate showed her, that the goblin hadn't mentioned even the half of what she actually possessed.

Quirking a brown at the amount of houses she had for her disposal, she began to think about which one to choose. Luckily for her, there was always a few additional information attached. Sitting down at her desk, she began to establish a list of possible candidates beginning with the Black estate.

First, there was the Leeds castle where she was staying now. This place seemed to be the original residency of the Head of House Black which wasn't really that surprising considering how dark this place was… Hermione remarked. The last one who had inhabited this place was Pollux, Sirius' maternal grandfather. Well, she sure wasn't staying here.

Second came the dwelling of the rightful Head of House who got his position usurped by his dear cousin. Arcturus Black, alongside his Macmillan wife had lived in Newby Hall up in North Yorkshire. It seemed that not only was he 'banished' from his family matters, but also geographically situated so that he would be as far away from his family as was possible. That option was out too, since Hermione didn't want to spend her last weeks of holidays up in the windy cloudy north. Though she did wonder what had happened for him to live so far away. Even though the many means of magical transportation lessened the distance…

Surprisingly, the Goblins included Grimmauld place in their list, too, even though it now belonged to Harry and not her. Strange… Promising herself to look into it later, she read on.

The famous uncle Alphard lived in London, in an apartment near Trafalgar square. Even though she had her qualms about living in a bachelor's flat, she considered it one of her options. Fortunately for her, she had about ten more to go.

Ruling out the possibility of living somewhere where Bellatrix grew up, she was left with the option of choosing a quiet and 'lonely' house in Devon after one Cassiopeia Black. The description sounded lovely. It was small enough for her not to be terrified of living in such a huge place as was this castle and at the same time, she would have enough rooms to explore.

Biting her lower lip because of her inability to decide, she looked at the Arcey property.

She rolled her eyes. 'Do all purebloods obsess over castles?' she asked herself as she read the name of the first property. Up on the Orkney Islands, she owned what looked like to be an enormous castle which had been uninhabited for the better part of the last hundred years.

'Well, not going there' Hermione thought.

There was not much information about the other houses. As was already mentioned by the goblins, she owned a house in Kensington Palace Gardens. However, she didn't want to live amongst muggle ambassadors and billionaires.

What looked like a nice place was Chatsworth House. From the description, Hermione got the feeling it looked like a fairy-tale house with those creeks, bridges and parks. Sighing, she realised there were only two manors left. It seemed that the Arcey family tree didn't branch so much like the Black one.

The first one, again in Scotland, was Aldourie Castle on the shore of the Loch Ness. With its 15 bedrooms, Hermione decided that was a tad too much for her right now. That left a mansion in Somerset called Halswell House. With such a large garden and woods that belonged to the property, she was surprised that it wasn't as much in a remote area as she had thought in the beginning. It was only half a mile by foot to a small village named Goathurts.

Yes, she had found a winner.

Casting a spell for time and date, she found out it was Wednesday, 7 August and that left her with about 3 and a half weeks till the start of the sixth year. Feeling bad for the lovely house-elf, she decided to wait till tomorrow to pack and leave.

Knowing that she should make the best of her time here, she decided on interrogating the Black family portraits, and where better to start than at a portrait hall she was certain was somewhere here. And not the one she had arrived in.

Deciding to do so and actually finding the gallery were two, very different things. So far, she had managed to find the ball room, living room with a small-ish library (if anything could be taken as small), the kitchens which were huge and surprisingly empty and about ten parlours, dining rooms and what not.

She could clearly understand why Andromeda feared this place so much. It was so dark and uninviting that Hermione wondered how it was possible for anybody to live here and not become the next Hades.

Fortunately, the next door she opened proved to be the gallery she was looking for. The door almost couldn't be opened and if she were to take a guess, she would say that nobody had been into this room for a long, long time.

From what she could tell, it was somewhere on the third floor of the second wing. The floor was covered with old dark wood that creaked under her feet as she walked on it. The only light came from the few windows that pointed to the west and therefore even the small amount of morning light didn't manage to stream inside.

The portraits were all asleep even though she had been walking across the long room quite loudly. But it gave her the opportunity to observe those that were here. The main difference between this gallery and the hall Flipsy had brought her in when she had come to this place was that the portraits looked much, much older.

It took her no time to realise that the further the she went, the father in time she seemed to step. The last pair of portraits wasn't even on canvas, but instead made as a stained glass, with torches of flaming fire burning behind them. If this was the family gallery she was looking for, than chances were, she would find her grandfather in here.

As she looked for her Granddad, she was confronted with the eerie resemblance that ran amongst the family members were it men or women. The most prominent one was the Black hair. So many forms of curly that they could even patent the word. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones and strong, almost edgy facial structure. Alone from looking at them all, Hermione was able to feel the charisma and inner force all of them must have had.

Not only the men, but also the women looked very 'well-bred'. She almost sniggered at her thoughts. Who wouldn't be if they grew up in such an enigmatic family such as the Blacks?

Knowing that she should look further down the hall, she observed the wizards and witches very carefully. Until she found one who was sitting on a chair very familiar to the one she had seen in her 'dream'. He was one of the few who didn't choose to have a portrait in the usual standing up position.

Smiling indulgently at his familiar face. She knew that a magical portrait of a person was only a sliver of what they had been during their life. She her extensive knowledge didn't encompass all the spells that were used to create one, however, they had to be very powerful so they could at least _try_ to imitate the real person. Memories that made them who they were, every edge, every curve had to be exactly the same. That's one of the reasons why it took so long for one to be created and it didn't surprise her that the prise was so steep.

"Grandfather?" Hermione tried to rouse him from his deep sleep.

It didn't manage to wake him, but the others started to wake up from their sometimes centuries long slumbers.

"Grandfather!" Hermione snapped loudly at him and this time, he half opened one of his eyes. Which after he caught the sight of her snapped open. Disbelief, confusion and finally anger flew across his features as he stared at her from his _throne_.

The others were surprisingly quiet, devoting all their attention to what was happening right before their painted eyes.

Hermione knew that Blacks weren't very fond of showing what they thought and therefore wasn't surprised when her grandfather's face morphed into one of cold disinterest. Though she couldn't help but comment on that "Really, Grandfather?"

"Why do you insist on calling me Grandfather?" He asked her finally, angry that she had woken him up.

"Well, you _are _the father of my mother which makes you my maternal Grandfather. I'm not comfortable with calling you 'maternal Grandfather' and so I've decided to omit the unnecessary adjective" Hermione explained in the tone she used to explain to Ron why Hippogriffs had wings…

The Black in question, finally catching on, retorted "Oh, but I am not certain whether your Great-Grandfather would be pleased with that. He was quiet adamant about keeping the distinction clear"

Hermione, surprised that he managed to return her banter so easily, only managed asked him which Great-Grandfather he meant.

"Your _fraternal_ Great-Grandfather Thanatos, of course." He explained, stressing the word fraternal more than was necessary.

She remembered reading the name in her family tree but that was as far as her knowledge went. Deciding not to pursue this conversation further, she looked around only to realise that all of the portraits were awake. And what shocked her even more, they all looked at her with knowing eyes, as if they had already known who she was without her having to introduce herself.

"What is this room officially called?" Hermione asked as she turned to look back at her Grandfather. However, it wasn't him that answered her question.

"This is what we have called the council room." A deep, powerful voice answered her from afar. Going in the direction she came from she came face to face with what the nameplate told her to be Cepheus Black.

'Council room?' Hermione quirked her brow at that which prompted to wizard to further his explanation. "Till the late eighteenth century, no decision would be made without consulting the council. Together, we have more than one and a half thousand years of experience."

"How many of you are here?" Hermione asked no one in particular but she still got her answer, this time from a gentle Lyra Black. "37. Throughout the two thousand yearlong existence of our family, there have been 37 witches and wizards worthy to hang in this room"

"Forgive me for being confused, but you mentioned that this room had been used only till the end of the eighteenth century. Am I right to assume that since then, there were no – eh additions made?"

"Yes, that would be right" an old voice confirmed her suspicions.

"Do you know what happens outside of this room?" Hermione asked, wondering if they had any other portraits made.

"Yes of course" another woman answered her. "Every one of has at least one portrait in this castle and then where we've lived our lives. House-elves tell us the news. Though there are those who choose to sleep through it all. You would be surprised by how much we know about you"

That remark made Hermione gulp. She was surrounded by wizards and witches from the darkest family known to magical world and it didn't leave her exactly calm. Biting her lip, she conjured herself a chair at the very end of the room and sat down, taking out the small notepad she had remembered to take from her room.

When she looked back up, she was met by many astonished glances. Only now did she realise that this room had been very strangely built – as if the architect had expected that precisely this room would be later filled with so many paintings with wondering eyes.

The end at which she sat was made of the widest wall in the room so that she could see every painting without needing to strain her head. Also, the portraits were tilted towards her and therefore, every one of them could see her clearly.

"You have questions I see…" One of them remarked and in that moment, Hermione wished she at least knew the name of the wizard she was talking to.

"A few… These are theories of mine, more than questions" and after worrying her lower lip for a while, she began.

"To begin with, I would like to talk about the Quintet. Or Septet or Quartet, depending on your point of view. From what I've gathered, they worked like the Ministry – " aaand, the interruptions began.

"You've gathered wrong" a dark voice that sent chills down her spine snapped at her and Hermione had to stop herself from growling at him.

"Illuminate me then…" She prompted him, partly angry that he didn't let her finish, but partly glad that she could correct her perception of the whole thing.

"We had no laws, only tradition – and that proved to work the best. Our folk was used to live in a certain way, to a certain set of rules. We called it natural law. It was common sense and logic. People didn't need to look for loopholes, they didn't need to pay off Ministry officials, because it was fair." He concluded.

"So you say there were no actual written laws and agreements…" Hermione wondered out aloud.

"Yes, that is what I am saying. However, as the time went by and new families" he spat that last word with so much distaste and disgust "from different countries arrived, they thought it would be _for the best_ to alter our thousand years long customs."

"I've always thought that the Ministry was established because of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy" Hermione remarked.

"_Our_ community could have survived without a Ministry to feed rubbish to the public. We might be crazy but we are not suicidal." The man said, but Hermione could feel he was straying off topic.

"So if you say that the Quintet was far from being a Ministry, tell me, what did they – you do?" Hermione asked.

This time, another witch overtook the explanations. "Our families – you _do _know which families I speak of?" after seeing Hermione nod, she continued "Our families made sure that the tradition was followed. Children were to receive education – which became easier with the establishment of Hogwarts. We supported our economy – made deals with the Goblins so that no one would miss out on something. Yes, we controlled everything that could be controlled, every family devoted their lives to a substantial part of our world. But the people were happy. Before the Ministry came, half of the population of the British Isles were wizards and witches."

"What had been your part?" Hermione inquired, making careful notes.

"Potions" another male answered. He looked much older than the rest of them and Hermione guessed he could be around two hundred years old.

"Potions?" Hermione wasn't sure what she could understand under that.

"Yes – you see, there are many uses for potions. We invested in companies developing remedies, fabric dyes, books, spell crafting and rune crafting, sometimes even Quidditch broom factories. There are many fields in which potions are a substantial part." He spoke wisely, taking his time to explain.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Hermione asked after a while, wanting to know just how much omniscient these wizards and witches were.

"Yes, we do" a chorus resounded in the room. But one man chose to elaborate "Since you are the head of two houses now, you need to know what to do with that. Though I have to warn you, the way to the restoration will be tough." He was almost at the end of the row and Hermione had trouble seeing that far. 'Restoration' that sounded like an abomination.

"Is there a handbook?" Hermione joked trying to sooth her fears and surprisingly, a fair few of them laughed.

"Unfortunately no" Her grandfather rose from his chair, showing her how tall he really was. "But there are certain steps that you can undertake even now…" his glum demeanour disturbed her. 'What did he mean by _even now_' Hermione asked herself with confusion.

"Which are?" Hermione demanded to know.

"Mægþ ofer æghwa. Hæfst þū ǣfre hīerdest þæt?" a raspy voice to her said. Startled, she realised it had been the man on the stained glass whom she had previously thought to be just that – a stained glass picture. Her eyes bugged out at what he had said. She had never heard such a language before. It had an English feel to it – perhaps Old English? It would fit, considering he looked older than the mediaeval.

"Family above all, have you ever heard that?" someone provided a translation. Hermione nodded but she didn't tell him that it was in some muggle play she had read in the orphanage. She also didn't tell them of her doubts about the 'glass man'. He had understood what she had said just moments ago. So why didn't he answer in modern English?

"You see, that is where all our power comes from – where your power will come from. If you do not have family standing behind you, you will not accomplish what needs to be done. There is an old custom, a custom which has not been used in a very long time, which – to an extent will call every living Black to you, who has been loyal to their family and not themselves." The same person that had provided the translation explained. .

'That way I could protect even Narcissa and Draco…' Hermione thought with glee. She was not stupid, she had read the contracts and found out what fate had thrust upon the blond and black haired witch. And if what these men and women were saying was true, than they should choose the side of their rightful family.

This whole meeting reminded Hermione of some kind of lecture – she wrote her notes and the 'occupants' of this room gave her the information she needed.

"The only thing you need to do is write them a letter, stating that the House of Black calls them home and if they come, and they **will **come, you will know who true Blacks are"

"But she shouldn't concentrate solely on the Blacks, should she?" a young witch snapped at them. Even to Hermione, this whole Black family cult (she wasn't able to find a better way of describing) seemed a little over the top. Sure, she understood they took family matters very seriously, she just felt overwhelmed by their – could she call it devotion? Obsession?

"No, of course not" another member of the 37 protested adamantly.

"There were seven families at the height of our time" a man somewhere in the middle began to explain, but Hermione had her own interrupting to do.

"The Arceys, Blacks, Eadwigs, Bones, Peverell, Darwins and Godwins" Hermione couldn't help herself. She didn't want to look like a complete laywoman amongst the 'council'. But as soon as those seven names left her mouth, she cursed her impertinence and impulsiveness. That had been downright rude. "Forgive me" she hastily apologised, looking down at her notes rather than meeting thirty-seven pairs of eyes.

"Yes, that is quite right" it was clear from his tone of voice how offended he at being interrupted. 'Well, too bad' Hermione thought, angry, though not at them but at herself.

"Blacks – we've already accounted for them. Your family – the Arcey's" he pondered. Hermione loved how her name sounded in their aristocratic drawl. Smug smile wanted to form on her face but she quickly morphed her features into a calm and collected expression.

"They had been slaughtered during Grindelwald's march. The French branch of the family went first, refusing to bow to a madman like him. Using a pair of young French Arcey girls as a bait, Grindelwald's army invaded the Orkney Castle on Yule. It had been a plan executed without any hold-up. The whole family had been cursed to death." He recited as if he had been reading a history book.

She felt strange upon hearing about her family's demise. She wasn't crying, and yet, she certainly felt sadness for all of them. Nevertheless, Hermione still couldn't believe how it was possible for all of them to fall on that day. But she chose to discuss this matter with _her_ family and not settle for any gossip the Blacks had to offer her.

"You are the only one left. There are no other stray heirs, no other relatives. Then, there is the Bones family. From what we've heard, there is only one girl left bearing the Bones name though I fail to recall it right now. If she is an orphan, she would surely appreciate were you to take her in. Even though she is not from the original Quintet, she will surely have the proper education to understand what is needed of her."

Susan Bones was the girl's name, Hermione remembered sadly. She had read about her aunt's death this summer. She had been murdered by Voldemort himself. Sighing, she wrote in her notepad: _'Write to Susan Bones – ask her to stay at Halswell House'_

"Now, the Darwins – "one started to say but was interrupted by another soon after.

"Not Darwins. That family had died out – they are the Greengrasses now…" In between their banter, Hermione wondered if there was any connection between these Darwins and _the_ Charles Darwin. Probably not though, because if she remembered correctly, then the magical family line diminished around the thirteen hundreds.

After apologising for his mistake, the former speaker continued "You should not approach the Greengrasses. They are all Deatheaters. I cannot tell you anything about their daughters, you will have to approach someone about them – preferably your nephew Draco."

There was no love lost between Hermione and Draco and solely thinking about him as her nephew unsettled her. However, she soon remembered her previous reaction to the option of bringing him into _her_ family and her mood brightened a bit. But there was another thing that bugged her. Didn't Sirius' parents want him to join the Deatheaters?

"Pardon me, but you are _against_ Voldemort?" disbelief lacing her voice.

"Blæce ābēgaþ tō nān mann" the stained glass man snapped angrily at her.

Hoping that someone would translate for her, she turned towards the room again but no one dared to utter a word.

'Blacks something to no man?' Hermione tried to translate. But she didn't know the verb. 'Could it be subdue? Bend? Bow?' The precise translation wasn't important, the meaning was. And that she got. There was no master to a Black apart form a Black.

"Eadwigs, we have _no _good recollection of that family." A woman broke the silence, her painted eyes flashing with fury. "That family had been corrupted and as a result denounced."

Well, that was an interesting turn of events. By now, Hermione was sure that if the Hogwarts Board of Governors decided that they would teach about wizarding families and their history, no one would fall asleep in that wretched class of History of Magic. Making a note to research the Eadwig family later, she turned her attention back to the room.

However, before any of them could continue, Flipsy appeared in front of her.

"What can I do for you, Flipsy?" Hermione asked the elf, who trembled with fear as it felt those many eyes stare upon it.

"Miss Andromeda is awake and looking for Mistress" Flipsy squeaked.

"I almost forgot about her! Do make her some breakfast. I shan't be long…Ask her, if she would be so kind and wait for me in the gardens. Although… it had been quite frosty this morning… If it is too cold for her taste, then could she wait for me in the most pleasant parlour? Let her choose, please" Hermione gave her instructions and Flipsy disappeared with a pop.

Pulling a stray strand of her behind her ear, Hermione resumed their discussion "What about the Godwins?"

"The Godwins didn't allow female heirs to lead their family and therefore their line ended in the late eighteen hundreds. The last daughter married a Longbottom, though they weren't admitted into the Quintet"

"Why?" Hermione inquired, not understanding. The Longbottoms were a light family, right up there with Potters, who were a part of the Quintet for centuries! Pursing her lips, she looked around. They all sported reluctant faces.

"Well?" She prompted them and finally someone decided to open their mouth, surprising Hermione with the audible repentance.

"The Blacks have begun their dark era."

Now that was non-sense. The way Hermione saw it, the Blacks were a dark family by default (she had no issue with that), and saying that they have entered a dark era made absolutely no sense to her. At least in the first few seconds. Then, many things clicked for her.

This council have a say in family matters till the end of the 18th century. Which meant that precisely then, a new generation came. And if her calculation were correct (which they always were) then it would be the first generation know only the way of living in secrecy from the muggle world. At the end of that century, the Ministry had issued so many regulations that her head had been spinning from it all when she had been studying for her O.W.L.'s. That too had to have an impact on their society.

Also, it was the time the Blacks started dying so early. 'What had happened back then?' Hermione couldn't help but ask herself.

"I'm sorry" a voice at the other end whimpered.

"It was not your fault. You couldn't have known that the bitch would poison you. Though I distinctly remember me telling you to check your food once in a while." A woman on his side scolded him, but there was no malice in her words.

Standing up, Hermione strode towards the other end of the room, wanting to know this man that was apologising for something she had no idea. As soon as she stood face to face with him, he introduced himself with a bow "My name is Praesepe Black, my lady"

No one in this room had paid her so much curtesy in one sentence alone, as this young looking man. But as soon as his next sentence left his mouth, she understood why he behaved exactly the way he did.

"I married Licinia Gaunt"

She had once joked that she knew about the Slytherin family more than any other person in their world. But right now, she wished she didn't. His wife had been the infamous Licinia Gaunt who had murdered her own brother. She wasn't able to find out what had happened to her after that, since killing a male family member was an act that was in most cases punishable by death. Now she knew where she had disappeared to.

Hermione hoped that her emotions didn't show on her face because she was certain that Praesepe wouldn't like what he would see. Though she supposed that he would take whatever punishment she was to hurl at him.

"Go on" Hermione prompted him.

"She was deranged, but I loved her" Hermione pictured another deranged woman, whom another husband loved. Shaking her head at her thoughts, she concentrated on what he was saying.

"We were already engaged, a week from our wedding when she just – snapped. During a fit she had murdered her brother. It would have looked terrible and our whole family would be put to shame if I were to withdraw my offer. So according to our original plans, we were married in a week." He looked so downcast that Hermione almost told him to stop, but she felt that he needed to get the whole story of his chest.

"I could never forgive her for murdering her own brother. That was something so unimaginable for me that I spent days on days punishing her. I beat her, crucioed her. It was a miracle that we had any children. And because I've felt so much guilt for behaving the way I did, I let her exercise all the power in our marriage, I let her name our children, renounced all our old customs. And then she killed me, poisoned me."

Hermione could barely look at him. A small part of her hoped that because they have all seemed so put together, so _sane_, she would never have to hear stories like these. But that had been a fairy-tale. Yet again, she was confronted with her childish naiveté.

"The children she bore were more Gaunt than Black. They trampled down our customs and traditions, they conspired against each other, corrupted everyone in sight." He sighed, unable to look her in the eye "Even though I hate the man, only Phineas Nigellus began to incorporate the family customs again, though never to the extent they had been before."

"How did you get a place on the council?" Hermione asked after a while of thinking. After she had heard his story, many things began to make sense. She understood why they called the last two hundred years the dark era, she understood the short age, the random insanity.

"He is a bastard" Her grandfather answered her unabashedly, not looking for polished words "And we believe we need the point of view of a bastard"

Casting a last glance in his direction, she was disappointed yet again. He refused to look at her. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she made her way back to her chair and noted the most important information she had received.

"I believe we should continue our previous discussion. The Blacks entered a dark era and refused to accept the Longbottoms. One classmate of mine, and a very good friend is Neville Longbottom. I would like to introduce him to the Quintet alongside Susan Bones." Hermione stated her wishes and waited to hear what the others had to say.

On the inside, she was a bit unsure. If everything went smoothly, there would be five of them – all from one generation. Harry Potter, Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, with herself representing the House of Arcey and partly House of Black. Maybe Draco Malfoy would join them but that was a big maybe. What would she do with all of that? She really didn't know. 'Baby steps, Hermione, baby steps' she tried to calm her nerves.

"That would be most prudent, I believe that both of them would greatly appreciate it as well as provide the necessary help." One of the older wizards supplied her with an answer.

"And what about Harry Potter?"

"Ah yes, the Peverells" one of them reminisced indulgently. "I believe young Harry Potter has enough on his plate right now. Support him, as you did before, but you should not complicate his life more than it already is." The same indulgent voice said.

Staring at the many pages she had just covered with her neat writing, she attempted to gather her thoughts. Were there any other things she wanted to go through? Yes, there were a few now that she thought about it.

"What are is your opinion on Muggleborns?" she asked, unsure whether it wouldn't be some kind of a taboo or become a ghastly subject.

"Mægþ ofer æghwa" the raspy voice said once more and that was enough for her to understand. The council didn't stand for undermining their family only because of their opinions on blood-purity. They haven't actually said that they accepted Muggleborns or that they welcomed them in their world. The only thing he said was that they would not fight with her on that matter. Which was very indeed very reassuring. (Even though they were only portraits…)

She had a last request, but she didn't want to sound too vain. Internally rolling her eyes at herself, she voiced her troubles. "Are there any other options to these?" She asked as she rolled up her sleeves to show the bracelets.

"Well of course there are!" A woman almost at the door squealed with delight. Walking to her, she stood in front of one Sagitta Black. "There is a treasure room down in the dungeons, there are many head of house insignia, among other marvellous jewels." The witch gushed.

Smiling with thanks at the witch, Hermione accioed her notepad and pencil. With a flick of her wand, she disposed of her conjured chair wordlessly.

"Thank you for your aid" Hermione parted with the council with a polite nod of her head. Closing the door behind her she called for Flipsy who then took her to Andromeda. They had a lot to talk about.

* * *

_A/N: So what do you think? Please review :)_


	27. A Black

Sirius Black had always been excessively arrogant. Somehow, even though he despised his family, he had always thought he knew everything when it came to the world he had grown up in. He didn't fancy himself to be a know-it-all like the girl his best mate was besotted with since – well – since basically the moment he had set his eyes on her. No, this was a different kind of knowing everything. He had been cocky and presumptuous. He had grown up in the most orthodox family there ever could be, for fuck's sake. Olde magic, dark magic, blood magic – it was all ingrained in his brain so deep that he knew nothing could ever scrub it out.

Rebellious, childish, insubordinate. Realistic (yes, even that sliver of reality managed to attach itself to his brain at some point). He thought that he could influence everything happening around him. He thought that he wasn't naïve. And that had led to his gullibility. Such a naïve boy…

For months now, he felt something entirely out of his control began happening to him. It had started innocently enough. There was a foreign thrumming, a humming coming from within. He didn't pay it much attention in the beginning, ascribing it to be a side effect of finally mastering the full shift into Padfoot.

It didn't stop there.

Dreams – he dreamt of things very much too real not to be true, not to be memories. Memories that didn't belong to him. He could always remember those dreams of his with incredible clarity. Nevertheless, for all that he held dear, he wasn't able to figure out whom they belonged to.

Then the humming and thrumming stopped. As if the connection with whatever he had had been violently severed. Though slowly it began to grow again, a pull in a direction that led him nowhere. And yet he sometimes felt he would go crazy if he didn't follow it. But where?

It didn't take long and he began dreaming about a girl, an angel in his eyes. _His_ Cassie.

Nevertheless, it wasn't normal to have dreams like these. It was not normal to feel the pull he felt, sometimes robbing him of his own judgement.

He didn't know what was going on.

He had nothing to go on but wait for her to show up in his dreams.

But she never did.

"Are you all right, Sirius love?" an elderly voice raised him from his reverie and despite his foul mood, Sirius couldn't control the small yet sad smile that formed on his face.

"Good morning, Misses P" the young man greeted his surrogate mother.

"Misses P? I haven't heard that one from you for a long time…" Dorea Potter wondered aloud.

"Seemed appropriate" he muttered as he stared out over the vast property that belonged to the Potter manor.

"You didn't answer my question" the older witched tsk-ed, reminding her son in all but blood (though he was related to her – she was a Black after all) how much she detested when someone tried to steer the conversation in another direction. Well, apart from when she did it – then it was absolutely all right, you could even go as far as to claim that she was very proud of her ability to manipulate conversations to her will.

But Sirius ignored her reprimand. "I will be seventeen in a few weeks' time. I should start looking for my own place to live." Perhaps there was more to say but he didn't get the chance to since Dorea didn't waste time interrupting him.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed angrily "you're stuck with us at least until graduation." Had she given him the impression that he was no more welcomed in their home?

"I really appreciate it Misses P, though I could not possibly impose on you any longer. You've all been very generous" _too generous_, he added but didn't dare voice his thoughts. For him, it was a done deal. He had already contacted his uncle Alphard, hoping that one of his 'sane' family members would have an idea as to how he was to purchase an apartment.

Knowing that she would see him during Yule break, as well as Easter holidays since Sirius and her boy were practically joined at the hip, she decided to leave him be. For now.

She was not blind though. Sirius was practically an expert at deflecting, no matter how many times she complained. Therefore she knew that there was something else that was bothering the young Black. She had watched him all summer - that frown on his brow disappearing only when James decided to proof-sing his serenades he had written to the lovely Lily.

"Does James know?" She asked him all of a sudden.

Sirius was not stupid. She was a Black through and through and there was no doubt that she certainly was _not_ referring to his sudden need to move out.

'_Does James know?'_ he asked himself. His _brother_ did ask him what was going on with him and Sirius told him that those were just jitters from the war that was upon them. 'Did he believe me…?'

The great thing about James was that he knew when to shut up and when to pester him. And this time he had wisely shut up.

"Yes" he answered after a while. Was it a lie to say yes when his friend clearly knew something was going on with him – even though he didn't know what? – But that was not been Dorea's question, was it...

"I believe James should give her his father's mother's ring, what do you think?" she asked him as she, too, looked at the sun rising up, bathing the forest in its summer light.

"It would go well with her jade eyes and the gold would complement her pale complexion very well" he supported her decision, thinking of the ostentatious ring with a large square ruby set in a gold band with heads of lions engraved in the precious metal.

If Mrs Potter was surprised by his knowledge of the girl, she certainly didn't show it. He was her son's best friend after all and therefore had to have spent quite some time observing the ferocious redhead for six years already.

"It's in the jewellery chest in his trust vault. Not that he knows it's there."

"I'll make sure he finds it in time…"

Sometimes she could almost forget that he was so young with the way he spoke to her. But those – these – were the rare moments when he let his guard down for a bit. And she was too Slytherin to not jump at the opportunity.

"What's _her_ name?" she asked, completely disinterested – though that was only the way her voice sounded and the expression her face held. Inside, she was bubbling with excitement. But also sadness, sadness caused by his constant frown.

"Cassie…"

The sun was almost above the peaks of the treas. It was almost time for them to get inside and join the others for breakfast. _Almost._

"A short for Cassiopeia, then… such a beautiful constellation, standing for the wizard and witch." she stated.

"Sacrificing her only daughter only to be tortured by the sea god for her arrogance and vanity. Bound to the sky for all eternity. A beautiful constellation indeed…" he scoffed.

"A Black?" Dorea replied. Of course she knew all those myths concerning any and all names that had been ever been used as a name in the Black family. That was _basics_, after all. Though she didn't wait for him to answer her. Turning around, she strode towards the glass terrace door that led her back inside. She didn't hear him mutter the soft, almost inaudible 'yes'.

* * *

"Ah, Andromeda! There you are" Hermione exclaimed after finally fining the right morning salon. Even though Flipsy had been quite clear with her directions, Hermione spent a lot of times opening random doors on her way towards the so called 'Serpent morning tea-room'. Wondering at their absolute unoriginality when it came to naming rooms, Hermione managed to find another bedroom, something that looked like a cigar, and a card room – if something like that even existed in a castle that belonged to a Slytherin. Probably yes. They did need to entertain themselves somewhere.

"Good morning, Hermione" the older greeted her politely.

"Good morning, Andy. Did Flipsy offer you breakfast?" Hermione asked curiously, knowing very well that she gave that small creature no such order.

Andy appeared at a loss at what to say. Mildly surprised by the timid behaviour of the older witch, Hermione called for her house-elf and asked her to make them some breakfast. Almost as if she was awaiting her Mistress' orders, Flipsy arrived not even a whole minute later with a breakfast tray for both witches.

"I hope you slept well. This place is not the most – "

"Inviting?" Andromeda supplied the word the younger witch seemed to be looking for.

"I was going for homely. But inviting would do, too" she agreed and sipped on her coffee. Did the elf read her mind? How else could she have known that she took her breakfast with a cup of coffee? She would need to speak with Flipsy later that was for sure.

"I did sleep quite well. Though I must be returning home soon" Andromeda informed her, with what sounded like regret.

But Hermione had expected that. There were only a few things she needed to speak about with Andromeda Tonks, and she would make time for that.

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of keeping you in here_"_ she said, a chill running down her spine as if a ghost just passed through her.

"You seem quite familiar with this place" Hermione continued after finishing her toast. "We could certainly go for a walk. The garden seems to be only bearable place around, though I doubt today's weather wouldn't make us freeze to the bone…"

"There is the winter garden" Andromeda suggested and at Hermione's nod, both witches made their way out of the room.

Perhaps she had judged this place too soon, Hermione thought to herself as she entered what looked like to be an oasis in the middle of a desert called the Black castle. As soon as Andromeda opened the large iron door inlaid with panels of green glass with moving motifs of snakes, Hermione's smell was assaulted with the sweet smell of blooming herbs and sounds of rippling water falling from a fountain.

"Did you spend time here with your sister?" Hermione asked, omitting the fact that Andromeda had not one, but two blood sisters in reality.

"Yes, it was obligatory to spend at least a month with our grandfather. Mother called it 'evaluation time'" Clearly taking a trip down the memory lane was nothing easy for the older witch, seeing the conflicting emotions flash across her face, finally settling on cold indifference.

"Did you meet your betrothed here?" Hermione inquired, remembering

"I should not been surprised that you know about that. Yes, I met him here. As did Cissa"

"How long has it been since you last spoke with each other?" Hermione asked, not wasting time with pointless dithering at the possible inconsideration of her question.

"Practically since I got married in the early seventies. This summer has been the first time we have seen each other in… over twenty years." Andromeda breathed out.

"How was she when you were growing up?" even though there were some ulterior motives behind that question, Hermione was genuinely interested in the blonde Black woman. There was something that didn't make sense. Actually, there were many somethings that didn't make sense when it came to that woman and her son.

"She was a very sensitive girl while growing up. Family was everything to her and she was unable to not listen to the orders she was given" in that moment, Hermione couldn't help but think of another Black that had been hopelessly following orders wanting to make his family proud, which had resulted in nothing other than his death. Though the probability that Narcissa would end up like Regulus was low, she was still a wife to a Deatheater. However, Hermione failed to consider another fact – she was a mother to a Deatheater. And that lowered her survival rate even more.

Hermione's face betrayed nothing of what she was thinking right in that moment. She may have shown mild curiosity, though it was still that usual expression people knew from school. She rarely looked any different.

One thing caught her interest. If Andromeda's tale about her sister was true, then she had a rather strong connection to her _family_. Narcissa didn't question the horrid betrothal contact they made her sign. Following orders, Andy said. And Hermione needed her _family _to stand together.

There was a moment of silence when both witches admired the array of exotic flowers hanging from the side of a small pond with a fountain – of course in the shape of a snake. They really did have an unhealthy obsession with those animals…

"Say Andy, what is a stronger calling. The family you were born to, or the family you were bound to?" she asked innocently.

"I beg your pardon, but why exactly are you asking me that?" Andy looked at her, was it suspicion in her eyes?

"Call it academic curiosity. There are not many things you can read in books, and unfortunately this is one of them." Hermione supplied her explanation in a way that left no room for further debate and Andy was left with nothing else than answering her.

"Blood that flows in us is always stronger than marital bond" she answered her.

"And when it comes to their children?"

"The male parent must claim his child to be truly of _his_ blood… though that is an archaic ritual and I doubt anyone uses it nowadays"

Smiling at the older witch, Hermione looked to her left and was met with a sight of a large station clock. Why was it always about time with her, she asked herself, never enough time!

"It's almost noon, are you sure you would not like to stay longer?" Hermione inquired, their previous conversation forgotten.

"Even though I would like to stay longer, I believe my presence home is needed." If Andy noticed the sudden change of conversation, she didn't appear much confused at its abrupt end. Hermione thought she could even detect a sliver of relief from not discussing that topic further.

"In that case, Flipsy will take you home. I believe that would the most convenient way for you to get home." And not waiting for her to assent to her course of action, Hermione called for her house-elf and said her goodbyes to the older witch. But before she disappeared from sight, Andromeda had to make sure that the girl wouldn't stay in this place any longer than was necessary.

"Do not worry Andromeda, I've already found the right place. I shall send you a letter very soon, so look forward to my owl"

Though she harboured some doubt from the last time they said goodbye on similar terms, there was nothing else left for her to do other than grip the hand of the Black house-elf and appear home not two seconds later.

* * *

It had been a month since she had received the letter. It had been a month since she had put it in her charmed secret compartment of her boudoir. And in that month, a lot of things had changed.

Her son had been branded like a cattle because his father displeased the Dark Lord. He had spent a week lying unconscious and she wasn't even allowed to nurse him back to health. Her role as a 'mother' had been ascribed to Bellatrix who relished in reproaching her for raising him to be such a weak boy.

Narcissa knew her boy was nothing but strong. Wasn't it Draco who wasn't afraid to face whatever punishment his father thought necessary when he stepped out of line a child? Wasn't it her Draco who faced his initiation head on, knowing very well he was condemning himself to a life of misery? And wasn't it her precious boy who was faced with an impossible task?

Her son was a Black! She was a Black! And it took her almost twenty years to realise that again. Waving her wand in an intricate set of motions, she pulled out the wooden panel that kept her most prized possessions secret.

As a wife to Lucius Malfoy, she had been prohibited from wearing her Black birth stone. It was also the place where she hid those two letters. One to her sister she never sent. One from her cousin. And it was precisely that letter she was looking for. A letter from Sirius Black.

Once more making sure that her room was properly warded, thus lessening the chance that she would get disturbed and found out, she took out the letter and locked the drawer again.

Taking a deep breath, she broke the seal and began to read.

_Narcissa,_

_It has been years since our last encounter. And I believe that all those years, you held me for nothing more than a blood-traitor – an abomination to our family. Yes, our. You see, even though I would most gladly destroy each and every memory I have of my dear parents and grandparents, I am still a Black. You are still a Black. Your son is a Black. And there is nothing more important to us Blacks than family._

_Therefore, I – we leave you with a choice. A choice that you should have already made if you are who I held you for all these years. _

_There is a new Head of House Black. You have seen her at the reading of my will. In a few days, months, years, she will call you. You do still remember what that is, do you not? _

_If my assumptions are correct, then Malfoy has not claimed your son as his. Have you thought of _that_ possibility?_

_Let the decision be on your conscience, whatever it may be._

_Sirius Orion Black_

* * *

A/N: First of all, let me thank you for all your lovely reviews! I love to hear your suggestions, remarks, good or bad, so please keep them coming. Also, and I believe I've mentioned this earlier, I'm looking for a beta, or rather someone who's willing to discuss with me the story in depth. So if you're interested, you know how to contact me :)

Thank you all for reading!


	28. Tea

She was standing with her back turned to them. They were just a mere buzz in the background, just a gentle touch on the farthest side of her brain. Their words, sentences – though she did hear them, she did not want to connect the sound with its meaning. She knew they were there and yet, she did not bother talking to them, nor did she think it in any way rude to ignore them the way she was.

Just before the two proud Malfoys arrived, she had explained the basics to Susan Bones (who had indeed come to spend the rest of their holidays with her at Halswell House). It was a certain advantage to have her there, seeing as Susan did know about the –tet thing (quartet, quintet – that was all history to her and therefore she didn't bother with enumerating its many stages).

Additionally, Susan was a Bones, and therefore everyone knew her family history – it wasn't a spider's web like Hermione's. That was one of the reasons Hermione believed would ease the upcoming discussion between her and her school nemesis. (Had he ever been truly her enemy though?)

Susan accepted all that Hermione told her without question. Maybe too meekly for Hermione's liking. She failed to grasp that even though Susan had been her schoolmate for years, their positions had drastically changed. Even though the young Bones didn't mention it out loud, in her behaviour towards the Gryffindor it was all too clear. Hermione had become some kind of sacred person to those who knew what her surnames were. And that, even though Hermione's grandfather talked about it, she herself failed to perceive.

Therefore she should have counted with the fact that Susan will do what is asked of her and pose no question – if not expressively asked.

Hermione heard them discussing Susan's wellbeing, Malfoys' wellbeing. All that polite chit-chat she was in no mood for. The autumn wind was blowing again – even though that according to the calendar it was still summer. Her long dark hair was flowing around her head and from behind she looked like phantom from the darkest corners of the earth.

"Yes, I came because my cousin requested it of me…" she heard Narcissa say.

Two more weeks. Then they will be off to Hogwarts again. Two weeks was all she had left of what seemed to be peace and calm. In that short amount of time she had spent here, at Halswell House, she had done nothing but explore the grounds around the majestic manor. Whether it had been raining, or the sky flashing with dangerous lightning, she could always be found outside. Perhaps she should have spent her time going through the massive library, or speaking to her ancestors' portraits. But that would only continue to churn up her already chaotic thoughts.

The only time you could find her inside was when she was having her meals or helping Susan with her homework.

She had been to the small village, and had been very glad to find out that it was purely muggle with absolutely no signs of magical activity. In a way, she was running away again. Though this time, it was to clear her thoughts and to set her priorities straight – but maybe she was telling herself that so she could sleep well at night, not because it was the true truth.

Hermione didn't bother with 'eavesdropping' on the conversation that was being held inside. No, her thoughts took a different turn. They – the Malfoys that is – had come too late. He had already been initiated. She could feel it on him and it made her skin crawl.

It was late afternoon and Hermione guessed they 'dropped by' on their way home from Diagon Alley. She should have been there that day, with Harry and Ronald. But instead, she chose to send the Elves to get her the school supplies she was in need of. And she didn't feel bad about it – it as gratifying to see their excited faces when she (finally) gave them something to do. She hadn't had the time to look through it all, after all, she had been walking the grounds.

"Mother, I don't mean to sound rude. However, I fail to see the reason why we just had to 'drop by' a friend of ours…" Draco was growing impatient it seemed. But Hermione was not ready yet to part with the fresh, chilly air.

She was standing right in front of the door that had purposefully been left open for her. That door led to a parlour where, currently, two silver eyed Malfoys were sitting. It would be rude for them to ask Susan to close the door – the room was getting chillier by the minute, even though the wood burned in the fireplace quite nicely. And the large window-door was covered by almost opaque drapes that didn't allow them to see her form from the inside. But still, etiquette didn't allow them to make that small request.

How much Hermione hoped that he wouldn't have been marked yet. But it seemed that mere wishing wouldn't change the fact that Draco's soul had been bound to the remaining seventh belonging to the evilest man of the 20th century. Voldemort had given him an assignment then, Hermione concluded. What assignment she didn't know… And there was only one way to find out.

Drowning herself in the picturesque misty countryside around her, she took one last breath, turned around and entered the parlour.

It was most interesting how in a split of second the whole artificial cheer in the room simply disappeared. Hermione was not sure if it was surprise, rage, indignation or confusion that showed itself in Draco's eyes so clearly and sharply…

Choosing to ignore his beseechingly aggravated face for the moment, she turned to the already standing Mrs Malfoy. "How nice of you to drop by… Did Susan offer you our lovely lemon tart? I have to say, Lessy had simply outdone herself today!" Hermione had to swallow the bile that was forming in her throat from the oversweetened politeness and cheeriness of her welcome.

"Why yes, she did. I do have to say, it was marvellous. Wasn't it, Draco?" Yes, it seemed that Narcissa understood their game quite easily. Now though, it was Draco's turn and Hermione still wasn't sure how that would turn out. One sentence, one word was enough for her to find out whether he would accept what was slowly forming in front of his eyes. Would he desert his newest 'lord'? Would he make Slytherin proud? Or would he be a coward, a dog with his tail in between his legs, fearing to bare his teeth to them?

It was clear he was unsure, very much uncertain about the way one choice could change his life. Hermione didn't know the exact thoughts that ran through his head. Though she could guess. 'How is it possible for a mudblood to enter a pureblooded house? How can she offer me a way out? What in Merlin's name is going on?'

"Yes, it truly was. Mother, why don't you take the recipe, I've never been very fond of Lotty's variation. It has always been a bit too – tangy for my taste."

Smiling politely (though in her eyes, it was as clear as day she wasn't smiling at all), she called for Lessy.

"Mistress called?"

"Yes Lessy, could you please write down the recipe for your marvellous lemon tart for Mrs Malfoy here? And perhaps, could you bring us a fresh pot of tea please?"

"Of course, Mistress"

"I've been outside most of the afternoon and haven't gotten time to drink my cup of tea." Hermione remarked as she sat down, not so surprisingly at the head of their small group of four.

"Tell me Narcissa, how's Diagon Alley at this time of the month? I've always been there just before the beginning of the school year and I have to admit, my experience isn't as jolly as I would like to say…" Even though the topic was a dangerous one, with the possibility of bringing up the reason why almost all of the shops in Diagon Alley have closed recently, Hermione didn't want to pass up the chance to 'test the waters'. Would Narcissa be willing to play this game?

"We did that mistake the first year round. Though I can't possibly remember why we chose to go there so late in the summer. Do you by chance remember, Draco?"

He was still unable to wrap his head around what was currently going on. This was Hermione, Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor know-it-all, conversing with his mother in a way he would never have ascribed her. He knew the ropes of this social chit-chat, which in was in no way chit-chat. There were many who got lost so easily in those almost imperceptible pointers and deception of words.

They could have said 'Hallo, do you want my help? – Yes, I do. Draco, are you in?' Instead, they wrapped it around in a nice caveat of cake and recipes. Though those wouldn't be the precise words, all that was needed to have such a marvellously hidden conversation was the tone of your voice and maybe a few hand gestures, perhaps the slightest squint of your eyes.

He knew, no, that would be too hopeful of him to say – he presumed that Hermione (or whoever she really was) had to have a way out for them. Otherwise, why would they be here?

There were many blanks left out for him to fill – how did his mother even know about Hermione? What did her (dead) cousin (he had to guess it was Sirius) got to do with this whole business? And since when are Susan and Granger such good friends? Draco was left with nothing else than with carrying on with this charade.

"Yes, interestingly I do. The Nimbus Company finally released their newest model – after almost a decade. –"

How much was he willing to gamble with his life?

"- Father insisted on going sooner. I remember you were terribly against it, with all the shopping we had to do that day. Though we did get to meet Harry Potter."

"Draco-" Narcissa hissed, trying to be as much subtle as she possible could. Though nothing could escape Hermione's impeccable hearing.

"No, do go on Draco. I believe I've never heard about _that _meeting. Did you _talk_?" Hermione was more interested in what he had to say, and that gave the right incentive.

"Yes, I believe we did. Though it didn't go as father would have wanted. Potter had no idea who I was…" Draco stopped suddenly, not knowing the right way of binding his words in a way he wanted. It turned out to be much more difficult than he imagined – saying one thing and meaning another. He spent all his life giving clear commands to his classmates or being quiet at home – there was nothing in between. And unfortunately, even though eavesdropping on so many similar conversation helped, it had not taught him the fine art of directed, understandable deception.

Perhaps she shouldn't have silenced Narcissa so soon. She could clearly see he was struggling with all that he wanted to say and at the same time keep hidden. Hermione herself was sometimes failing to grasp the way her words left her mouth, sometimes clear and sharp as the sun on a cloudless day, and sometimes so tangled and twisted that only the most skilled of conversationalists could keep up with her and truly understand what she meant.

"And are you looking forward to Hogwarts, Draco? Susan and I can hardly find anything reasonable to do around here these days…" Though it seemed completely preposterous to even imply that one should be looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, Hermione had to at least try to find the reason why Draco's been so fidgety.

Indeed, she had hit the nail on its head. He went completely white, if that was even possible. His already pronounced dark circles under his eyes became even more purple than before. And that wasn't all, even Narcissa, who seemed to Hermione like a woman who always managed to keep her cool and calmness around her began to look rather ill. Or was she only imagining it?

"I've never held Hogwarts in particular fondness. The Headmaster and I, we've never really seen face to face with each other…"

Hermione looked at him quizzically. Though she could not claim she had the most knowledge of what was going on inside the castle, she could not recall any incident between their Headmaster and Draco Malfoy – if you didn't count the one upon the former's 'amazing' disappearance from his office.

It could, to an extent be because of his father, Malfoy senior, and his constant urging of the Board of Governors to fire the old Headmaster.

Her thoughts came to a halt. Presuming they were talking in riddles, true riddles of a Riddle – then it could be because of his father. He got a task then – seeing that Narcissa seemed to be very out of sorts by now, as if Draco had just revealed the biggest secret there is. A task because of his father, then. Perhaps to punish him, she did not doubt the Dark Lord would be a strong advocate of that.

A task, at Hogwarts, and it got something to do with the Headmaster. Question – well, it wasn't really a question – was, what task? Even though Hermione still failed to understand his reasons, Riddle had always been afraid of Albus Dumbledore, and that was a fact everyone knew. So, it wouldn't be too irrational to suppose that Draco's task was to get rid of the Headmaster. His chance of succeeding? Close to zero. The weight of punishment, humiliation and degradation of their family on both the Dumbledore's and Voldemort's side? If he succeeded he would be forever seen as the murderer of one of the greatest wizards that have ever walked the earth, then he would be probably killed because of that very fact. In case he failed to fulfil his master's wishes he would probably be tortured, killed, exorcised or whatever. So either way, he's dead. And – that's really not what she would want.

"I see" was all she said, deep in thought. "More tea?" she asked, completely off topic.

"That would be lovely" Narcissa remarked, attempting a semblance of a smile. And failing miserably.

Had they enough of this charade?

There really was no choice in that matter. It was clear to all of them, even Susan who, being the honest Hufflepuff she was, was completely lost by now. They could not openly talk for fear of some curse that would backfire on them because of Draco's mark. There was even a slight possibility that Voldemort would later go through their minds and find they have been spilling the beans to none other than the best friend of one Harry Potter.

The danger, were he to find out who she really was, excited her. In a way, she was persuaded that it would not alter the war in any way. Maybe, she would be even able to strike a deal with him, leaving her out of the war all together. A part of her was still considering that option – it all depended upon the weight of her _name. _

Though she didn't know she would find out so soon. Holding the cup of tea higher than necessary, her sleeve accidently rode down from her wrist. And being sometimes the careless person she was, she did not attempt to straighten it back up.

Draco, who managed to keep to his cold-blooded, cold-hearted persona throughout the afternoon got very much affected by what he saw sparkling on her wrist. He bolted up from his seat. Shaking with rage, his hands that were gripping her shoulders tightly slowly made their way towards her neck. He shouted "How dare you put that on your filthy muggle hands?"

But before Narcissa snapped back at her son, before Susan even reached for her wand, his body clad in dark robes flashed through the whole parlour and glued itself to the wall on the opposite side, his feet dangling in the air.

Hermione's dark wand gripped in her hand firmly, she slowly advanced towards him like a cat striding towards her prey.

"I dare what I dare" she said slowly, quietly, enunciating each word as sharp as a knife.

He had never seen something so scary as her in his life. Even after Voldemort, even after receiving his mark, he knew that her eyes, so dark, would haunt him till the end of his days.

"Question is, how dare _you_?" she inquired, running the tip of her wand alongside his face. He was completely helpless, stuck to the wall, his hand too far to reach for his wand. And even if he did, he doubted he could best her.

"I… I…" he stuttered, unable to form a coherent answer.

"You – you what? – Tsk, tsk. I hoped your mother had instilled some manners in you. Such as, never – ever – try to strangle a lady. Whatever she has done, she is a lady and will be treated as such. Do you not remember your mother telling you that?" and since the magic seeping from his mark irritated her to no end, she pushed back on it with her own.

She did not expect what happened next. His face contorted into a grimace of utmost pain and he let out a blood-cruelling scream. And through this whole ordeal, his mother was quite, and Susan just sat, mouth open, staring at what was happening right in front of her eyes.


	29. A Question

Chills of fear ran down their spines, their faces twisted at what they saw happening in front of them. Narcissa felt completely helpless, again. She had come to this girl hoping she would be present her with a way out of the mess she had managed to get stuck in. But instead of a straightforward plan she had hoped she would get from the girl, she got mind games. True, she would be disappointed hadn't Hermione played around with words and yet, she was forced to watch as her son writhed in agony, again.

"You couldn't have waited, could you? Couldn't help yourself, huh!?" Hermione shouted at her suddenly, finally letting go of that overpowering, exhilarating feeling of having someone's life in the palm of her hand. It had startled her – the way it had made her feel, such a rush, she had almost been sighing from pleasure. And as a way to get rid of that disturbing feeling, she vented her confusion and anger at herself on Narcissa.

"We – there was no other way! He would have tortured us and then let his snake feast upon us!" Narcissa finally confessed, her fear no longer remaining bottled up and only making her voice quiver. She was afraid of the girl in front of her. Narcissa wasn't able to figure out who Hermione really was. Yet she reminded her so strongly of those stories she had read as a young girl. Stories about wild witches, their hair flowing down their backs, eyes so dark you mistook them for black holes. Morgana le Fay, Circe,… they had many names, but they were equally terrifying. And right in front of her eyes stood another reincarnation of darkness itself. And she was so scared.

Casting a glance at Draco, who was still stuck to the wall and white as a sheet, she tried to calm herself down. No good would come from hot-headed behaviour, she knew.

"Please, let him go and we can discuss it!" She pleaded with the dark-haired witch.

Hermione was still looking at Draco though, not sparing a glance for the begging witch. She wondered for a while why Narcissa hadn't made an attempt to duel her, keep her from her son. That would be the reaction of every mother, Hermione thought. But then again, Narcissa was no ordinary witch. She had sacrificed her son to Voldemort after all, only to save her own skin (or so she believed).

"What is there left to discuss?" Hermione whispered after a while, almost heartbrokenly, as she stared into Draco's light grey eyes.

He hadn't said a word since she had 'touched' his mark. He was only observing her with his eyes, waiting for her move.

This was Hermione's home. Somehow, only now did Draco understand the implications of that. It was her realm, her domain. And he had no one else left to blame for what she had made him suffer through. He was too proud to say he was sorry, though he did doubt she would consider his apologies in any way sincere.

He still had no idea how she got her hands on such precious insignia. Despite him knowing that one cannot forcibly wear the head-of-house jewellery (the magic it was impregnated with forbade it), he still had his doubts. How was it possible for a muggleborn to be a Head of House? And not only of one but two families at the same time?

Out of the corner of his eye he could see his mother, her eyes filled with the same worry and guilt as they had been the night he got marked. Rationally, he knew there was no other way for his family to go on but for him to receive the mark and hope for the best, which might he add, was not much. Total humiliation if he were to be honest.

There was a part of him that blamed his parents for all the bad that had happened to them, and to an extent, his silent accusations were based on the truth. His father had drawn their family into such despair and ruin that Draco couldn't help but await the end of the Malfoy family in fear.

It seemed that his mother hoped for some miracle to happen and so they found themselves here, oblivious to what to do next, not being sure if there even was a way-out for them.

Hermione turned around then, and in the same instance he fell to the floor, his whole body aching. His mother flew to his side, and unwillingly, he let her help him stand up. What manly pride he had ever had and had not lost yet had just disappeared, he thought bitterly.

"You came here with marvellous expectations of how I would wave my wand and all your past would disappear. Then I would create a fairy-tale life for you and you would move to France, though I suspect the Malfoys there wouldn't look too fondly on your visit. Another, even unlikely wish would be that I would somehow persuade the Order that you are their indispensable informants, since you have magically decided to switch sides. And that would put you in a very comfortable position indeed. Whichever side won the war, you would always come out the winner. Quite sly, I admit. Of course, that would be all jolly and well, if it were not for the fact that Draco here was to murder the Headmaster and help the Deatheaters invade the school."

Their eyes got so huge that Hermione wondered how it was possible they hadn't fallen out of their sockets.

"Don't worry about Susan, she thinks we're discussing the changes in the Hogwarts staff…" she tried to placate their fears with empty words, didn't succeed though.

"How – How do you know all this?" Narcissa stuttered.

"I observe…" Hermione scoffed.

Looking out the window, she found that it had grown dark. Another night, another day had gone by. She was well aware of the fact that they may come to danger if Voldemort went through their minds, yet she began to doubt he would ever do so. She came to the conclusion that he was so sure they were so terrified of him that they wouldn't dare to make one step out of the line, make a move against him.

They would need to go soon though, Hermione reminded herself.

The whole afternoon she had been thinking of plan that would somehow keep them from Voldemort only to find out it was all too late. But was it really? She may have hoped that she would be able to save him from what was happening. Though the reality was always much more different, harsher and colder than they imagined it in their minds. That was after all only a fleeting hope and this was real, palpable world.

"The only way you can really escape both possible outcomes – if you were to succeed or fail in your 'task'" Hermione spat out, still not having made up her mind about Draco's assignment "is to create the Quintet again."

Because her back was turned to them, she could not witness their reaction. Which had been almost none – that was true... Draco had no idea what she was talking about, having grown up in a stuck up world of the Malfoys that obstinately denied the Quintet's existence. Narcissa, on the other hand, knew what he was talking about, but only from almost forgotten remarks of her grandparents.

"Let us speak plainly" Hermione exclaimed after a while and continued "From what I'd gathered, the Quintet had been the brain behind everything having to do anything with our world till the bureaucrats decided to establish their Ministry of Magic. And that had brought our world on the brink of its ruin. Two powerful lords, two sides fighting over something that cannot ever be separated"

"What is that?" Susan asked all of a sudden. To be honest, Hermione had almost forgotten she was in the room with them. It had all been just a ruse, telling the Malfoys that Susan was hearing a completely different conversation.

It hadn't even been a whole day since Susan had arrived to stay with her and Hermione made her make a witch's vow to keep her silent about everything that Susan might hear, be a part of – without Hermione's explicit consent she wouldn't be able to breathe a word of what she had been a witness of. Hermione saw it as necessary insurance against loose mouths, though it didn't bother her that it had been a redundant action, seeing as Susan adhered to the rules of the old.

Neither Malfoy seemed to notice that she wasn't to contribute to their conversation – or at least to the right topic, which made it all too easier to Hermione to answer her question without any further explanation.

"In school they teach us about how magic has its light and dark side. Which is complete rubbish. Magic is magic – period. You cannot split it according to your preferences. The Dark Lord believes that only dark magic is the way to progress whereas the Light Lord Dumbledore believes that everything that is even a shade darker than light is automatically wrong." Hermione explained to the Hufflepuff.

Turning to the two Malfoys who stood quite huddled close to each other, Hermione asked "What would you have done if you hadn't come to me?"

She didn't know if Hermione was aware of the fact that she had the power to force an answer out of her. And she wasn't in the position to risk it. So she answered without hesitation: "I would have gone to Severus Snape and asked him to watch over Draco…"

"What?" Draco exclaimed, angered and dare he say it, wounded by his mother's lack of trust in him.

"I wasn't about to let you walk into Hogwarts without your Godfather not knowing what task your Lord bestowed upon you" she answered him coldly, not about to justify her reasoning to her under-aged son.

"I see" Hermione said deep in thought, acting as if she hadn't heard the little family spat the Malfoys had just had.

"Draco, give me your hand" Hermione commanded.

He eyed her with distrust.

"Your hand, Draco" Hermione repeated and very reluctantly, Draco walked towards her and outstretched his hand.

"Susan, if you could pass me the parchment please" Hermione requested as she took Draco's tens hand and turned it palm up.

"Mrs Malfoy, I believe it would be prudent if you acted as if you hadn't consulted me. Go to Snape and beg him for help, as your Lord's lap dog, he will surely blab to his Master about the pleas of a desperate mother – oh would you please stop fidgeting! It's not as if I'm going to cut off your hand!" Hermione snapped at the almost white-haired wizard.

Draco couldn't even begin to understand her mercurial temperament. One minute she was the proper lady representing her house, and then she acted as a vagabond Gryffindor. Not that he hadn't expected the latter. This whole business was all too confusing, even more so considering he wouldn't be able to discuss it with his mother later on, seeing as their house was currently occupied by the Dark Lord himself.

He could only watch on as she took out a beautiful, ancient looking dagger and ran it across his palm. Surprisingly, he didn't feel it as the sharp blade broke his skin. With her wand, she siphoned out the blood that had gathered around the wound and as she dragged her wand across it the second time, the clean cut closed, not leaving a trace of its existence.

Letting his arm fall down to rest against the side of his body, he observed her as she let his blood float across the parchment Susan had handed her just moments ago. The only thing that he could hear for the next few minutes was his heart drumming against his ribcage, the slow, never-ending ticking of a grandfather's clock in the hall and her quiet murmuring which he did not understand a word of.

"It is interesting that such an old family as the Malfoys did not stick to the customs of old…" Hermione broke the silence, yet again.

Draco, losing whatever fear he had felt asked her what she meant by that.

"Well, it seems that your father did not claim you into his family. Why didn't he, Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione asked the elder woman with curiosity.

"He looked upon it as a superficial custom, for him who was born a Malfoy, was a Malfoy"

"Ah, well then, I have a question for you Draco… Do you want to be a Black?" she asked him, a cunning smile forming on her lips.

"A Black?" he managed to get out.

"Yes… Technically, you would be the last of the Black, the last of one of the mightiest families of our world." Hermione baited him, not hesitating to attract him with honey-sweet words.

Fortunately, he wasn't as stupid as many thought and did not fall for her wonderful words. He did learn his lesson. "Where's the catch?"

"Oh there are many… First, nobody would be allowed to know. They all think that Harry Potter will be the Head of the Black family as soon as he reaches adulthood, and they are wrong. However, that does not mean we will not lead them on in their false presumptions. Second," Hermione counted on her fingers "you will bring that family to its former glory. As I've said, magic is magic and I believe it's time our people understood it, especially you. You will be true to your family and by that I do not mean those wretched bigoted wizards and witches of the last century or so…"

He was too good at hiding his emotions on his face for her to read him properly. Nevertheless, even he wasn't able to disguise the slight ticking of his jaw. He wasn't stone-faced after all.

"Third and I believe last, it is not given that you will become the Head of the Black family… Think about it properly, once we arrive at Hogwarts, you can tell me how you've decided"

"And how will I reach you?" He asked her suddenly, seeing the only dangerous spot in her plan. She was, after all, a Gryffindor and he a Slytherin. From what students of Hogwarts knew about them, they stood on complete opposites of the upcoming war. It just wouldn't do for them to suddenly consort with each other.

"Do you know of the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes" Draco answered begrudgingly.

"Then on the second night, half an hour before midnight, we meet there"

And he could only nod.


	30. Is it real?

He was lying on his bed in the Potter manor. James had persuaded him not to spend the holidays at his apartment, claiming it would be an atrocity, a Potter Christmas without any proper Marauder pranks. But that had been before the girl of James's dreams agreed to maybe spend time with him during the Yule break. Currently, she was downstairs, charming his parents with her sparkly nature.

Moony had to leave two days prior due to his furry problem. He went to stay with his parents and they weren't exactly welcoming when it came to the four of them. And Wormtail? Well, he usually… Sirius didn't even know what their Animagus friend was up to.

Somehow, he had come to the conclusion, that it just wouldn't be right were he to bother them downstairs with his peeved mood. It wasn't that he didn't wish James to be happy, quite the opposite! He was so glad that Lily had finally budged and agreed to at least be cordial towards his _brother_, which had slowly but surely grown in affection. Sirius was almost one hundred percent sure she loved the mischievous, bespectacled Potter.

However, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was slowly but surely losing his best friend. To an extent, he was aware that these notions might be completely unfounded and preposterous. Though knowing didn't exactly mean he felt that way.

Closing his eyes, he willed his mind to calm and fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione Cassiopeia was playing with the bracelet on her forearm. When she had finished all her walking and pondering, she had quickly gone back to the Black castle and with the help of a bored portrait managed to pick something that wasn't screaming 'I've robbed Cartier' or the like (though that was very relative). To be honest, the bracelet she picked out was far shinier than the one made by the goblins… The woman in the portrait had explained to her, that the Goblins had what one would call 'default' insignia, meaning that they had many such same bracelets, only varying in the gems (and those they picked by what they deemed appropriate for the family).

In the Black vaults under the castle, Hermione had found something that she simply couldn't leave there. The portrait had explained that it was made during one of the many prosperous periods, still before the ministry had been formed. Designed by the most gifted master of the time, it was something utterly otherworldly and unlike anything what she would have expected from the dark house.

A tennis bracelet, diamonds set in gold and in the middle, the Black signet – that was what it looked like from one side. But on the other, there was something so alike a bloom of a dahlia. Set with uncountable precious gemstones, it was an effigy of a delicate pink bloom.

However, finding the Arcey insignia had been rather difficult. She had asked the house-elves, she had asked the portraits – no one was able to tell her whether there actually was such a thing for a female. So she had asked a different question – had there ever been a female Head of House Arcey? Interestingly, it turned out that no, it had never come to such a thing. Somehow, her family had always managed to procure a male heir that would lead them on.

Maybe it was a great crime – what she had decided to do. It was very well possible that she had broken a great deal of the old traditions in doing so, but fed up with the situation, she had asked them for the family ring (not the portraits, mind you, but the house-elves, who proved to be very knowledgeable about what was where in the manor). Without any scruples two devoted creatures popped out and back again, returning with what looked like a very heavy wooden chest. On it, there were engravings of what looked like a large battle, though she wasn't able to find out which from just looking at it and not studying it thoroughly.

Upon opening it, she found it was filled with parchment, small boxes, and letters and – dried flowers? For the next few hours, she read the story of an impossible love between one Erebos Arcey and a young witch Grace Mayflower. In 1620 she sailed on the Mayflower to the land of New York. Her father had been appointed by the Wizard's Council to establish the magical community in the New World. And his daughter was to come with.

Tears were running down her cheeks as she finished the last letter. They had met at one of the many social gatherings that were so very frequent at that time. It was love at first sight. She read as Grace described how she longed to dance with him as she did on the night they had met, how she missed the conversations that followed that faithful meeting. But then, her letters turned reproachful. Why didn't he write her back? Why was it that her owl always returned empty-clawed? Was it just a bunch honeyed words he fed her?

He did write her back, he just never sent her the letters. They were full of hope to see her again, full of promise to give up his family and sail to the New World so he could see her again. But then his father died and he had to take up the leadership of the Septet and his family.

…_my heart and myself, I surrender forever to you, beseeching you to forgive me for that, which I must do. It is with my love, for by absence we are kept a distance from one another, and yet it retains its fervour, at least on my side. On my part the pain of absence is already too great for me; and when I think of the increase of that which I am by duty bound to do, it would be almost intolerable, but for the firm hope I have of your unchangeable affection for me. _

_I beg of you, forget me my love. For you must find affection and happiness elsewhere, somewhere where my loving words will no longer poison your mind. And so, I free you of all the promises you gave me, since I myself am to break them all tomorrow, upon marrying the one that I do not desire. I shall remain forever bound to you in my soul, but that is as far as I am allowed to be._

_Farewell my darling love,_

_E.A._

Throwing that letter back in anger, she banged her head against the side of the large chest. Why did life had to be so cruel? Rubbing her eyes to get rid of the need to cry, she looked for a jewellery box that was likely to hide the Arcey insignia (and not wanting to stumble upon any jewellery intended for Grace, she was very careful).

Finally deciding upon one box that seemed to be quite peculiar yet ordinary, she stood up and with a deep breath opened it. She had been correct in her guess, though she was surprised by the fact that instead of only one ring, there were two.

One, which seemed like a gold signet ring, was engraved with what Hermione presumed to be a coat of arms of her family. Even though she couldn't name half of that, which was engraved on it, she could recognise a crown being held by a bird strongly reminding her of a phoenix crossbred with a – hummingbird? She really didn't know. Putting it on (and hoping she wouldn't get cursed) she got startled a bit as it automatically resized itself to fit on her slight fingers.

Taking a calming breath, she took the other ring and put the box back in the chest. This ring was very much different than what she would have expected. Then suddenly, she realised something and quickly reached back for the box she had so carelessly thrown back into the heap of papers. It was all written there, she had just not paid attention enough.

_For Grace Mayflower Arcey_

He had commissioned jewellery for her, jewellery worthy of a wife of the most powerful family. And she had just desecrated her memory by not even reading the inscription on the box.

She was in two minds about wearing the rings. On one hand, she wasn't the intended wearer of these rings… But then, if she wore these, she would be reminded of the fleetingness and harshness of life. She would be ensuring their story, which she doubted anyone knew about, remained on her mind and did not fall into oblivion.

It was very similar to the Black bracelet – in other words, a work of art and the height of craftsmanship. The attention was on a large orange pink diamond that was encircled by feathers crafted from thin plates of pink gold and set with blue, green, red, yellow, she sometimes couldn't even name the colour of the gemstones that created such a real reflection of the most colourful feathers found under the sun. Though on the sides, the feathers grew smaller and smaller until they blended completely with the pink gold band, which then formed the head of a bird on both sides. She marvelled at the detailed execution of the most incredible design.

Only from looking at the ring, she could tell how much the man loved Grace. And she felt honoured that she would be able to wear the sign of his eternal love for her.

With a stony face, she thought of the irony of the situation. She was wearing the testament of eternal love, but love that had ended in heartbreak and misery nevertheless.

As she was sitting in an armchair in front of a fireplace, she allowed herself a moment of painful reflection. Leaving her bracelet be, she pulled out the pendant Sirius gave her so long ago. He had never promised her anything that was true. But still she felt as if he had broken his vow to her. Clutching the pendant in her hand, she felt her eyes drop and soon, she fell asleep.

* * *

_Blinking, his eyes slowly got used to the mist that surrounded him from all sides. Shuddering from the frostiness of the air, he snuggled deeper into his heavy coat. Leaning on the railing, he tried to make out something in the white cloud but nothing. All he could see was milky whiteness all around him._

_Deciding to stay here a moment, relishing in the nothingness that surrounded him, he closed his eyes and just breathed. _

_His eyes opened with a frown. He thought he had heard – but that would be his imagination playing tricks on him. Or not? _

_Turning to his right, he concentrated on that sound of female heels hitting the ground. _

_Yes, he had been right, his mind was not deceiving him. There certainly was someone approaching with light steps. The sound grew louder and louder and after a while, he could almost distinguish the shape of the person that was getting nearer and nearer. He didn't even need to see who it was, his gut telling him it was someone he longed to see for such a long time. _

_She looked very surprised to see him, though he was able to recognise a sliver of happiness in her eyes, or at least he hoped so. He was sure his expression had to be the same as her, portraying his surprise, thrill, but also a bit of sorrow and pain. She had been on his mind all the time. Whatever he did, she always managed to force herself inside his thoughts. _

_He blamed her for his inability to really devote himself to doing anything these days. It didn't matter how many girls pined after him, it didn't matter how many Slytherins he fucked, nor the times he got himself into detention just for the heck of it. All those things that had brought him joy and at least a sense of fulfilment were suddenly bland, common. He still did them, he still hoped that there would some kind of a click and it would all go back to the way things were. But that did not happen. _

"_Hello" she greeted him tentatively, but he got so enraged that he couldn't help but vent all of his anger at her. And he certainly didn't pay attention to the words that left his mouth._

"_Hello? Who do you think you are, making me beg Merlin himself to tell me where you are?! I searched everywhere! I fucked bloody Slytherins just to get rid of the thought of you! I even went to confront Bella to make me forget you! And you what? She just laughed! LAUGHED – "_

_He was not allowed to continue as Hermione waved her hand and robbed him of his voice._

"_Stop!" she whispered brokenly. _

_Repeating in his head what he had just said, he felt so ashamed. How could he? He wanted to see her so badly that all of his never-existing patience bubbled over and turned into rage. _

"_What have I done that you scream at me so?" she asked him, her voice so small that it almost disappeared. _

_Realising that he was capable of speech once again, he started apologising to her, knowing he behaved like an utter idiot._

_And Hermione, she surprisingly accepted it though she couldn't even describe how much his words hurt her..._

"_How have you been?" She asked him after they both calmed down, the both of them leaning on the railing, staring into the abyss of the mist under them. _

"_Christmassy…" he told her after a while, though his voice portrayed nothing of the festive mood. "And you?" he enquired back. _

"_Summery" she said._

"_What?" Her answer was wrong, so wrong. There were so many things that were wrong with what she told him. How could she – unless… AAAARGH! He screamed inside his head, completely lost in the enigma of Cassie once again. _

"_Tell me Sirius, what year it is back home?" She asked him calmly, as if already knowing his answer. _

"_1976" he answered reluctantly, afraid of where she was going with it. _

"_You see, where, well, I should say when I'm from, it is the year 1996."_

_And there was silence, long heavy silence. "I see" he didn't turn to look back at her as he acknowledged what she said to him. His head was spinning with various possibilities of what could have caused this. _

"_Are you a figment of my imagination? Have I gone mad?" he exclaimed after a while, deducing that was the only possible explanation._

"_Would you feel better if I told you I was?" She demanded. However, he could hear the quiver of fear in her voice._

"_I don't know!" Denial was clouding his mind. This was so far behind the borders of his comprehension. _

"_Then think about this – do you want it to be real? Do you want _this_ to be real?" She challenged him, standing so close to him all of a sudden, staring with her deep, ocean blue eyes into his. _

_Did he want it to be real?_

* * *

Ah, cliffhanger! With the jewellery, I don't want you to think Hermione is vain in picking something so - prominent. In her world, those who were in the know so to say, will know what it is and therefore will not see it as vulgar, those who don't have an idea (especially the half-bloods and muggleborns) will see it as colourful jewellery, believing she made it herself (she is very crafty with her spells after all) - in other words, everyone will see something different behind it.

The love letter, a part of it was copied from the letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn. Unfortunately for me, I'm still not so eloquent with my english.

I want to thank you all for your reviews and staying with me for such a long time, I admit, I've not updated a lot recently.

And lastly, I want to dedicate this chapter to all the victims of the Parisian terrorist attacks (and not only the victims of those terrorist attacks but to victims of war all around the world). I simply cannot comprehend why people behave like animals, all seeking power and influence.


	31. Do you believe?

**A/N: I've thought for quite some time about how much should I include in this chapter. I know that many fanfiction writers favour leaving a cliffhanger at the end of their chapters so the readers will come back for more. But then I thought, I could not possibly not include the end of this chapter. I have to admit that it has become quite complicated to follow my story. I've made it too complicated for my own good. I sometimes forget about certain connections and for that I apologise.**

**I thank you all for leaving your lovely comments, it always lifts my mood reading them. And now, without further ado, I present to you the next chapter.**

* * *

What is reality? That is a hard and almost unanswerable question indeed… Millennia ago, the first philosophers known to human kind began to ask themselves precisely this question… What is real? Are there any degrees of reality?

Are dreams real? There are always two sides of a coin, aren't there… And therefore, one can easily deduce that there are two sides to dreams as well - meaning that one is real, and the other unreal (depending on subjective, by our brain restricted point of view). That, which goes on in our dreams, all those surreal images produced by some chemical or electrical reaction of our brains cannot be real since they have not happened while we are awake. But (and that is a huge but) our brain did produce these images - so we have to say that the action of dreaming is real enough…

Sirius was by no means a great philosopher like Plato, Kant or Descartes. Nevertheless, he was not stupid and therefore was able to come to the same conclusion as them. What Sirius perceived as impossible had not even crossed any muggle's mind, or if it they, they dismissed it as completely unthinkable, immoral or simply - undoable.

One could therefore easily understand Sirius's dilemma. It was no uncommon in their world that wizards and witches regularly became obsessed with magical mirrors that showed them their hearts desires. Some of them lost themselves in pensieves, reliving every happy memory they had. Others managed to lose their souls to moving photographs (Yes, that had indeed happened, sometimes the heartbreak had been so strong that even reliving a single moment over and over again seemed more appealing than living a life without the one person you thought would stay by your side for the rest of your three or so hundred year long life.

Should he believe what his mind was showing him? Should he believe that Cassie was a person NOT conjured up by his rebellious subconsciousness? Were he to do so, he would have to accept the fact that time travel was possible, that it followed some not so imaginary rules - and then, he would need to get the answer to one question that has been bothering him since he had first seen her in his dreams? Why did she choose to show herself to him? Why him?

_"If I were to ask you something, I could never be sure whether you know it because you're the figment of my subconsciousness, or because YOU truly know it… So even though I wish from all my heart that you are real and that somehow, I don't even attempt to understand how right now, we have a connection across all of time, I can't believe you." he answered her._

_He could clearly see how what he just said altered her. Surprise, bewilderment, disappointment, and finally, sadness and fear. All that he could see portrayed in her blue eyes. And even those lost all their sparkle and happiness, becoming dull and empty as if they belonged to a dead person. He couldn't give himself hope that this was real, because it would break him. Loving someone who lives in the year 1996? Only living for the possibility of seeing her in his dreams, and even then, he had come to know the pain that came from going to sleep and waking up in the morning and realising that it had been yet another night in which she had decided not to see him. _

_"What would I need to do for you to believe me?" she asked him brokenly, and instantly, he missed her near presence. "It's true what you said… How can any of us believe that this is not something our brains created so we would not feel the lo-" she stopped suddenly, not finishing her sentence. Maybe she realised it, too, the pointlessness of saying anything more. She herself could not be completely, one hundred percent sure that this dream was actually happening. It was not such an atrocious thought - being stuck in a kind of limbo that enabled him to speak to this wonderful creature. _

_"You're so adamant about the fact that I do not exist for you" he could see how much she was struggling to even say those words, as if she had been tearing a piece of self away from her. "But how can I be sure that YOU exist, that our dreams are joint and not that I'm simply dreaming of you?"_

_Suddenly, he understood why she had seemed so broken by his denial of her existence in his dreams. Since for him to hear the same thing come from her, it felt as if a shrapnel of the sharpest piece of glass has lodged itself in his heart and he could feel it proceeding it deeper and deeper, cutting through him. _

_He came up with an idea pretty fast and he only hoped that she would agree (though he did not notice how quickly he went from denying her existence to trying to persuade her _he_ was real) "I will write you a letter, that's what I'll do. If you are living twenty years in the future, then it will not matter that I write it now, it will only need to wait twenty years to be delivered." he said passionately. _

_Even though Hermione did notice his sudden change of heart, she knew that he needed the guarantee, the reassurance. She had to be honest with herself. The things he had said had made her unsure. Maybe it was indeed only a figment of her imagination and nothing else. She herself needed to make sure that this was real, whatever the bloody word may mean. _

_"For me, tomorrow will be the 21st of August 1976. I will be at the Halswell House in Somerset. I have one condition though, do not write it if you believe me to be some kind of a hoax, and do not write it only to make yourself feel better. No, write it because you believe I exist. Go to the Goblins for all I care, ask them about me. You know what? If you do go to them, tell them this - you're looking for someone lost in time, maybe that'll help." She spat at him, angry with herself, him, and the world in general. It was all so unfair!_

_"I - I need to go…" Hermione whispered, unable to stay near him any longer. Maybe if she jumped from the bridge she would wake up… Turning around, not waiting for him to say goodbye, she walked away. Was it the last time she had seen him?_

Another rainy day, Hermione realised as she heard the raindrops hitting the window glass. Shaking her head, she tried to rid her memory of the recent dream. Today, she planned on going through her notes on Tom Riddle one more time. She had to make sure there was nothing else to find in the library at Halswell House that could be useful. Asking the portraits seemed pointless, since they had all been murdered during the Grindelwald war.

Her yawning summoned her new house-elf called Notty. From her talks with the house-elves, Hermione found out that there was a house-elf family in every house she owned. They kept the house habitable, furthermore, every family member had their own house-elf appointed to them by the gender. Even the house-elves had their traditions. It simply wouldn't do for a female house-elf to tend to a wizard and vice versa. However, when it came to younger or poorer families, the elves could not choose whom they will serve. That was another interesting about the traditional take to house-elves, they had far more power and their opinion was far more valued than she had originally thought.

Notty explained to her that what had been going on in the wizarding for the last two hundred years was a very strange and sad. The house-elf families were fewer and fewer, and those that managed to survive living in dark families had their mental health damaged. Hermione had asked her how it was possible that the Arcey family house-elves have not died yet. She had received a strange answer - it seemed that they've been waiting for her arrival all this time. They through their bond to the family, they've always known there was still an Arcey left.

"Good Morning Mistress Cassie" Notty greeted her with a huge smile on her tiny face. When Hermione had first met Notty, the house-elf had called her Mistress Arcey-Black. She had been very uncomfortable with that and had therefore requested Notty, and for that matter all of the house-elves call her Cassie - which had angered them 'No Head of House can be called simply by her name!' they squeaked at her, maddened by her request. In the end, they had come to a compromise: Mistress Cassie. "Does Mistress Cassie wish to take a bath this morning?"

"No, thank you Notty." Hermione sat up, her legs hanging off the side of her bed. Even though she had been against the idea in the beginning, Hermione had relented and chose the master bedroom of the house. Notty had been appalled that a head of house would chose something less and basically blackmailed Hermione into choosing such an unnecessary large bedroom (or so Hermione thought).

Lower half of the walls was inlaid with dark, reddish oak wood, polished and carved, while the upper half was covered with the same fabric that made out the canopy hanging around bed. The four-poster king-sized bed was made out of the same, beautifully carved wood. The fabric was one very old and heavy, though Hermione could smell nothing dusty as one would expect. What would usually be an English rose motif in the muggle world was one of moonrose, a mythical plant that had been rumoured only to have grown during the life of Merlin.

Grabbing her wand that was, as always, on her nightstand, Hermione pointed it towards the heavy curtain drapes and pulling them aside, allowing at least a little bit of light inside.

"Mistress Cassie should have told Notty, Notty would have done it herself Mistress!" Notty huffed, clearly upset that Hermione dared to do something that was Notty's job.

"I know Notty, but you have to be patient with me, I have never been used to having an elf, more so one that would be so offended that I dared to pull the curtains open" Hermione teased Notty. Notty blushed at her Mistress's words.

"Does Mistress Cassie wish for breakfast?" Notty asked, her ears still slightly pink.

"Yes, thank you very much Notty, would you please wake Susan and ask her to join me for breakfast?" Hermione requested from her personal elf as she did every morning since coming to Halswell House.

"Of course Mistress Cassie, breakfast will be ready in half an hour" and with an exaggerated bow, Notty popped out of her room. Sometimes Hermione thought Notty made such a circus of being her house-elf only so she could aggravate her mistress.

There were many things Hermione was slowly getting accustomed to, though to an extent she hated how quickly she got used to the degree of luxury this house provided her with. For example not having to bother with preparing breakfast for herself and so many others as she did in the orphanage. Not needing to do any housework, not bothering with amusing her friends (most of the time, Susan spent reading her books, which Hermione found quite amusing since the dirty-blonde haired girl read so much more than she ever did, but back to the point, Susan spent so much time reading books that Hermione didn't need to babysit her like she did with Harry and Ron).

Standing up, Hermione went over to the window. Her long nightgown swished around her ankles, the light fabric not even touching her body. She was wearing one of the nightgowns Notty had given her. That was one of the many things her house-elf simply refused to debate with her. The first night, Hermione dared to throw a slight temper tantrum, angered by Notty's assumption that she would suddenly need to be pampered like some spoiled pureblood. She could not remember word for word what she had said that night, however, something from what she had said must have offended the little creature so much that it began to cry.

_'It is not about being a spoiled, impudent pureblooded child, my dear.' one of the portraits spoke all of a sudden. 'It's about years of tradition, decorum and etiquette no one seems to bother with these days. So when Notty says it is prudent you dress this or another way, you may think it silly, you may think it even superfluous and too rich, but trust me, it is not. It's tradition. And you must never forget that!' the man in the portrait finished angrily and went back to sleep. To say it was a startling revelation wouldn't be enough. _

From that day on, Hermione always asked why Notty did things the way she did them. And even though it was only form the house-elf's perspective, she had learnt quite a lot about the way things are supposed to be in an old pureblood and above all traditional household.

Wrapping her arms around her body, she could feel as the darkness slowly filled their world. How long will it take till it evens itself? The world can never be lighter, nor more darkness than light. When will the wizarding folk finally understand it, Hermione asked herself for what seemed like a thousand time.

From afar, Hermione Cassiopeia Arcey-Black built the picture of complete serenity. Her long, wavy, now almost black hair reached to the small of her back. Her face was completely expressionless, it didn't portray any of her inner turmoil. She looked exactly as Sirius described her in his dreams. An angel, wearing a nightgown of the most innocent white, her skin almost as pale as the fabric itself.

She wasn't aware of just how much she got lost in her thoughts, only when an elf tugged at the her sleeping gown did she realise it had been trying to get her attention for quite some time.

"Mistress Cassie?" The little house-elf seemed to be terrified of her.

Hermione crouched so she wouldn't look like a giant to the small creature. "What is your name little one?" Hermione asked as gently as she could.

"Me's called Tolly, Mistress Cassie" it answered as it flapped its ears.

"Nice to meet you Tolly, what can I do for you?" Hermione greeted Tolly. He looked so young. Hermione wondered whether that was the reason he seemed so scared.

"Me has a letter for you, Mistress Cassie" Tolly squeaked, taking out a thick envelope. Upon first look, the paper seemed very old and the edges frayed. Hermione's heart started to beat quickly, though she tried to stomp on that hopeful feeling spreading in her chest. It couldn't be, could it?

With a shaking hand, Hermione reached for the letter and stood back up. Not paying any attention to the disappearing elf, she turned towards the window and took a deep breath. She looked down at the letter. It was an old fashioned envelope with her name, her whole name written on it. Though it wasn't the name that surprised her so, no it wasn't her name that brought tears to her eyes. It was the handwriting. The handwriting of a man she didn't know if she would ever see again.

Not minding her shaking hands any longer, she almost ripped out the sheets of parchment that were hidden inside the envelope and rushed to her bed. For the first time in a long while, she didn't care about where she dropped her wand, she only cared about the content of the letter in her hand.

_6th June 1977, Hogwarts _

_Dearest Cassie,_

_I am writing this letter hoping that it will not be left somewhere collecting dust, only to be disintegrated with the going of time to nothing. But if it had been delivered on the 21st August 1996, as you bid me to, if you are indeed holding this letter in your hands, then let me apologise to you from the bottom of my heart for the words that had left my mouth the last time we spoke in the realm of dreams. Then, I had not believed what you were saying to be true._

_Since the moment I've learnt that a certain Cassiopeia, lost in time, does indeed exist, my days have been filled with despair and melancholy. For I did not know how I can face the fact that you live in the nineties and I in the seventies. _

_First, let me tell you about how I learnt about your life, Hermione Cassiopeia Arcey-Black. The morning I woke up from the dream we shared, was the first time I voluntarily opened a book. And for the next few weeks, books - and you - were the only thing on my mind. My brother James thought I was losing my mind, and to be honest, so did I. Because the more I read, the more impossible theories I managed to come up with. I will not bother you with the details. In the end, I've decided that even the darkest of books would not present me with any certainty. _

_The Black family and I have not really seen eye to eye, though there are few members of my family that can stand me and my opinions on certain matters. Surprisingly, my grandfather Arcturus is one of them and therefore I've decided to visit him during the last days of the Yule break. Though it had been a rather sudden visit, we had quite enjoyed ourselves, though that is quite irrelevant to what I want to tell you. There, my grandfather told me a story, a story, your story it seems. _

_Long time ago, an ancestor of mine, your mother had decided to protect you by sending you in space and time. As a baby, you've travelled so far but even though your mother did everything in her power to keep the secret of your disappearance, even taking her own life it seems, those in power in her time knew exactly what she had done. And so the story of a girl in time had been born, a myth between the families of old. _

_My grandfather had spent a whole day narrating the story of the Quintet and its many versions, the story of the Arcey family, their power and greatness. I have no right to tell whether your life had been easy or not, however knowing that your family has been completely wiped out by the time you arrive in the eighties makes me suppose that you have not had it easy. _

_Nevertheless, even though he knew a lot, he didn't know enough to explain why I felt the pull I did, nor why we shared our dreams. He told me he did have a theory, but for it to be confirmed we would need to see the goblins. You can imagine, I was not exactly fond of that idea, not really wanting my dear family to know my business. _

_Even though Arcturus Black is not the patriarch of the Black family, he still has enough authority with the goblins. And so, on the next day, the last day of my holidays to be exact, we made our way to the Gringotts bank. The shenanigans with the goblins have been long and uncomfortable, therefore I will not mention them. What I will mention though, is what I and my grandfather found out. He had been ecstatic, and as for myself, I didn't know what to think at first. _

_It took me another month to read up on all the books I could find on what the wizarding folk call the Natural bond. I wonder, would you have ever told me about it? I went through all the books in the Hogwarts library only to end up with nothing. Fortunately for me, my grandfather had been forethoughtful enough and had managed to get his hands on books that, though unsavoury, explained the topic enough for me to understand. _

_A Natural bond transcends all borders known to wizarding kind. It does not depend on time, it does not depend on circumstance, and it simply is. Those once bound can never be unbound. And, among other things, they share dreams - but you already knew that, didn't you. _

_In your time, I would be about thirty six years old. From what I can tell, we knew each other. So how is it possible that you meet me (my younger self from your point of view) in your dreams? I have thought a lot about it. And though it's with great denial of everything that is me, logically, I had to conclude I'm dead in your time. I do not want to elaborate on that, I truly do not for I cannot imagine how much pain you must be in. _

_Why did I write this letter after such a long time since the last time we shared our dreams? Maybe I hoped I would see you there, so I could tell you that I do believe in person. But then I realised that you might have begun to doubt the existence of me in your dreams, too. However, that wasn't the only reason I've delayed writing such a long letter to you. _

_You see, Cassie, I may be dead for you by the time you read this letter, but for me, you're something I can never reach. You're hidden in the shadow of time, far in the future. We're living our lives apart from each other, at different speed. You know what will happen in the next twenty years, I still have to live it. And still, even though I've seen you but three times, even though we've barely talked to each other, I cannot help but love you like crazy. _

_Please tell me you know of a way that I can meet somewhere else than in my dreams! For I cannot wait twenty years to see you, twenty years to hold you in my arms as I did the first time we've met. There are so many things I wish to tell you, but I'm unable to put them down on paper._

_If everything turns out the way I have planned, it will only be a few hours since you woke up. I wish I knew what you were up to, I wish I could share your troubles, share your joys. I do not know when the next time we meet in our dreams will be. Magic seems to be against us in this case. In the beginning, I sometimes begged Merlin he would make me forget about you, but the more I thought about it, the more I spent pondering the fact that there is someone out there for me, the more selfish I became in my thoughts. _

_So now, I beg you and not Merlin, forgive me for my horrible words last night. Forgive me for wanting to forget you. Because even though I know I will never see you the way you are now, I am so very happy you've become a part of my life._

_With love, forever and always,_

_Sirius_


	32. Perplexed

_Finally a new chapter! I know, it has taken me a looong time, but with my finals behind me (almost) I managed to find time and write. Even though this is far from being the best chapter, for me, it is the first step to writing again. Thank you very much for waiting this long :)_

* * *

There are moments that change your life completely. They are few and they are many. Hermione had experienced her fair share: coming to Hogwarts, meeting Sirius and her grandfather… Reading this letter, this undeniable proof that what was happening to her – to them, was real, was another moment like that.

She hasn't realised she had stopped breathing. Just then, for a moment, as her eyes scanned those pages of expensive parchment covered with practised handwriting, she held her breath. Her hands were shaking so bad she wasn't able to still them. It was real, she began to chant in her mind again and again. It was real…

A sudden sensation overcame her, a giddiness of a kind. It was ecstasy, it was fear, it was anxiousness, and it was complete abandon of reason.

She has been called mad and remembering the recent episode with Draco at her mercy, she couldn't refute that. A mere memory of that moment made her shudder from the sheer exhilaration she had felt, though she purposefully ignored this thought. Nevertheless, the letter - it persuaded her that she hasn't gone completely bonkers. To an extent she had convinced herself that she was becoming another crazy Bellatrix Lestrange, but this letter, those words proved to her that she still had some sanity left. Even more, it had finally opened her eyes to all the unimaginable possibilities of magic itself and that the line between reasonable mental state and insanity was a rather thin and blurry one.

She could finally say that the only person that ever seemed to understand her didn't hold her for a figment of his imagination. However, she came to the startling revelation that she simply had no idea what to do about it. Even though she certainly didn't want to admit it, she was completely lost. The war, Harry, Sirius, Dumbledore, her newfound heritage – she didn't know what to do first. Should she put more effort into her personal life or the future of her family and the wizarding world? What was more important?

Knowing this, this self-imposed responsibility for the fate of the wizarding world, she was still thinking only about _him_. Even though it pained her to accept it, she could in no way influence the time when Sirius would come back from the Veil (if she were to trust what her grandfather had said to her that is). It would take too long to understand the workings of the Veil – if she were to find any information on that artefact at all. Well… She would find it, she thought to herself, it would only mean going through a lot of books. Yet again, she came to the indisputable fact that there simply wasn't time for that. Was she willing to give up without even beginning? And yet, it was the only solution.

In the back of her mind she knew she should probably freshen up, get dressed and head down for breakfast. But her mind was still reeling from his letter to her and didn't cooperate with her body. Lying flat on her back, she clutched the letter to her chest. She wished so much to use her time-turner and change everything that had happened. Sometimes she even woke up at night and held on to that damned object, knowing very well she may never use it.

In those few minutes she seemed to remember everything that had happened in her life during the past three years. She remembered her research on Voldemort, the Horcrux that was hidden somewhere in her trunk. She remembered the discussion with the Council, her Grandfather. The synapses in her brain were working on double their usual speed.

Ten days left till the start of her sixth year at Hogwarts and she still didn't have a plan prepared – how could she have been so careless? She should have behaved like a responsible adult and yet she spent her whole summer recovering from her losses (and gains), having a silent pity party on her own.

That morning, something changed in Hermione. That morning, she finally accepted all that has happened in the recent past. That morning, she started to become the Cassiopeia Arcey the wizarding world will come to praise in a few years. That morning, time began to alter.

* * *

There were ten days left of her summer break, and she'd have to use even that little time left to her advantage. She already knew that this summer was a luxury she shouldn't have indulged in. She certainly could spent more time pondering her past and never move on with her life – that was a viable option. Brooding? Who wouldn't want to brood? Wallowing? Why not? And yet, there was suddenly a strength in her, a resolve to put a stop to this period of self-torment.

Of course, and that was a point she got stuck on many times this summer (when she actually got to that point) was what she actually wanted to achieve?

Dreams, some call it. Muggle psychologists revel in telling their patients: have dreams, do not be afraid of yourself, live your life to the full… Blah, blah. Unfortunately, Hermione realised, they were right. When she actually thought about it, she wanted to be a fearless witch. She had been capable of many things and more, then why did she let it all slip through her fingers?

Why, why, why… Doesn't matter now, she thought to herself. There were more important things to do, like practice her magic until it became a second nature to her again. Or find out more about that wand of hers or her Animagus form and all about the advantage it offered. And so, taking one final breath, Hermione got up for the second time this morning.

However, not even twenty seconds later, Hermione was faced with yet another surprise. There should be a limit on that, she thought as she looked at her completely empty wardrobe that had been (at least to her knowledge) filled with her clothes just yesterday evening.

"Notty?" Hermione called out anxiously.

With a soft pop, the house-elf appeared before her.

"You called, Mistress Cassie?"

"Yes. My wardrobe seems to have disappeared – do you know where to?" Hermione asked her house-elf with a frown. Not that she had that much clothes that still fit her, but some of it she has grown quite fond of and wanted to keep it just for the sake of ever owning some pieces of clothing. Even her school uniform and cloak weren't there, and she had planned on wearing them yet another year since there was no need for getting new ones.

"We began packing Mistress Cassie's trunk for Hogwarts and have found out that parts of it weren't fit for Mistress Cassie. They were too shabby and torn, and small and ill fit."

Hermione would have been impressed by the eloquence of the small creature in front of her weren't it for the fact that they have taken the liberty to decide what she was fit to wear and what not. This was yet another thing that greatly perplexed Hermione. From what Harry had told her about Dobby, from what she had experienced with Kreacher, she could safely say that house-elf did not dare to do something that concerned their masters without their explicit permission. Then why did _her_ house-elves decided to do as _they_ thought was right and did not wait for her command or permission?

She was surprised that she wasn't half as angry with them as she expected to be. Perhaps, she thought, this is just another plot of theirs to make me appear more like a pureblood than I already am. Sighing, she asked Notty what she was to wear then, seeing as there were currently no clothes in her wardrobe.

'Dear Merlin, will they force me to wear some ancient underwear?' Some of the horror and revulsion she felt in that moment must have shown on her face because Notty took a startling step back.

"We are so very sorry to not have asked Mistress Cassie for her permission to do so, but Mistress Cassie did say she needed to start preparing for Hogwarts. And this is what we have always done for Mistress Cassie's family" Notty squeaked.

"That's quite alright, Notty." Hermione suddenly understood what has been eluding her. It wasn't that they forgot to ask her whether they were allowed. During all those conversation she'd had with them (not that they were that many), she had voiced her opinion on traditional take to things rather loudly. She had even explicitly said that she wanted things done the old way. And those buggers found a loophole sooner than she could stop them.

Smiling at her suspicion, she closed the few drawers and doors of her wardrobe cabinet. "And what do you suggest I wear instead?"

Notty seemed to think for a while. "Does Mistress Cassie wish that we bring her suitable clothing for today?"

Exhaling rather loudly at the mention of her own clothes not being suitable enough, she nodded and with a pop, Notty disappeared.

Running her hand through her long, wavy and above all tangled tresses, she decided not to waste time and waved her wand swiftly above her head with a practised swish. Even though she was slowly getting bored with this updo, having her hair braided around her head was the most advantageous way of keeping them. This way, they didn't get into her eyes and the magic that held it together ensured that she could do practically anything and it would not get loose.

Just as she felt the last strands of hair fixing themselves in their place, Notty appeared again. Though she didn't see the house-elf, but rather a large bundle of fabric and flappy ears sticking out from it.

"What _is_ that?" Hermione couldn't help but exclaim as she observed the dress that was being laid out in front of her on her bed. Her first thoughts upon seeing it were something along the line of being only seventeen and looking like an old-fashioned lady. Though she was lost as soon as she touched the fabric it was made of. It was so soft, like water flowing through her fingers.

"This was the fashion of the early twentieth century, Mistress Cassie" she heard Notty explain as she observed the white floor-length shift dress with almost no sleeves and ruffled layers. Notty even brought her some shoes (to her horror they were high heels), underwear and stockings, not hers mind you (though she should have been happy that Notty wasn't trying to get her into a corset or well, nothing at all). Her experience from Madame Cannelle's shop made her realise just how expensive all of this must have been. She sure wasn't that poor child she had been anymore.

As she was getting dressed, Hermione couldn't help but ask Notty what she was supposed to wear at school when most of her clothes has been discarded as 'wrong'.

"All of Mistress Cassie's clothes for school, as well as Mistress Cassie's school supplies are already packed." Notty answered, but Hermione could see that the house-elf was clearly confused by it.

"That reminds me," Hermione remembered that she needed to go through the things the house-elves managed to buy for her "I would like to look at my stuff for Hogwarts and maybe, now that I think of it, pack some books from the library with me, too…"

"If Mistress Cassie tells us which books to pack, then we will put them in Mistress Cassie's trunk" Notty responded, in an even more confused manner.

"Yes, that is nice" Hermione acknowledged that they tried to ease things for her, but she still wanted to see all that has been packed "But as I said, I would like to go through it and check that I will have everything I need with me"

She certainly didn't want to fight with Notty about this. However, it seemed that fighting was the only conversation the two of them ever had. Hermione always requested something that she shouldn't have, then the house-elf would get angry because Hermione was too stubborn and didn't want to accept that a witch in her position should never worry about those kind of things. And checking her packed trunk seemed to be one of those things.

"Mistress Cassie only needs to tell us what she needs packed and we will put it in Mistress Cassie's trunk" Notty repeated vehemently.

Hermione didn't want to be rude, she didn't want to fight with the small creature and she certainly didn't want to step out of the arbitrary line that was called tradition – or so she's managed to convince herself. Although she did realise she was becoming the perfect example of a double standard. She wanted to be traditional only when it suited her and when something wasn't being done according to her expectations (even when it has been being done that way for what seemed like centuries) she went against it.

Being aware of that should have changed her mind. It did not. She wasn't going to pretend to be perfect. She even wasn't about to endeavour to be perfect. What would be the point of that anyway? Always trying to correct who you are, and just like that, you would be completely obliterating who you truly are. Though, on the other hand, that did not mean that she would stop her charade at school or what some may perceive as a split-character disorder. So yeah, double standard.

"Now Notty, I know that there are some rules that you want to stick to, but – and I say this most sincerely and without any insult intended, you WILL show me my trunk and the things you have packed. Not now, though, I think you said breakfast would be in half an hour and I'm sure more time has passed since then" Hermione commanded, leaving the house-elf with no other option.

"As Mistress Cassie wishes" and with that Notty disappeared with a soft pop.


	33. Some New Truths

There was a change in the air, and both girls sitting at the table knew it. Hermione thought that her rather old-fashioned attire has caused this change in the atmosphere, though that would be the denial speaking. She still was not entirely convinced that the elves picked right but then again, she would talk to them about it later. Thoroughly…

A lot of things went differently this morning. Hermione finally lost her patience with the house-elves, and was forced to wear something deemed appropriate (she surprised herself just how much she thought about what she was wearing in that moment since she had never truly been someone that would care so much about clothes and fashion). However, these occurrences were (only) the minor, one could almost say superficial changes in their otherwise rather dull and monotonous daily routine.

"Hermione –", Susan's voice seemed as if strained, as if she was to going to say something she had been taught her whole life not to. "– We have not talked much during my stay here and I … I just wanted to say that I really greatly appreciate your help, especially after what happened to my aunt Amelia…" there was a hesitant undertone to her voice, almost a need to be bid on to continue talking.

"There's really no need", Hermione interrupted Susan, a bit embarrassed that she needed to be thanked for what she perceived as her own selfish desire not to be alone. True, the Council of the Blacks did suggest that she take Susan in, but Hermione wasn't one to do something if there was nothing in it for her.

"Maybe you see it that way, but nowadays, not many people rush into taking in orphans. I may be a pureblood, but I'm a blood traitor in the eyes of those who, well…" The meaning of her last sentence hung between them, making the air grow thick. The British Wizarding World was under attack, the second war in such a short time (third actually, if one was to count Grindelwald's attacks).

However, as Hermione listened to Susan talk, she was struck by a sudden thought. "Blood traitor… Who _is _that exactly?" she spoke her thoughts out loud, with a pensive look on her face.

"Muggle-lover, too weak because of taking interest in the muggle world – " Susan supplied the answer, nevertheless, Hermione didn't seem to be interested in that "Yes, yes" she interrupted her "but that is not what Kreacher told me – that is the house-elves that belonged to eh, the Order Headquarters" Hermione supplied at Susan's uncomprehending expression at the elves' name. "I think he said something along the lines of family and strength of mind and heart" and yet, as she thought about it, she could clearly remember one more thing – a blood traitor in house-elf's eyes wouldn't necessarily be a blood traitor in a pureblood's eyes and vice versa.

"True, though you forget, wizards and witches add the strength of blood" Susan added quietly, dejectedly. "It's not that I want to squish your hopes but it has always been this way. As you've said, the strength of mind and heart are very important, though you cannot forget the strength of blood. The magic a wizard or a witch possesses correlates with their blood and ancestry. Some families treasure and promote moral values, others cannot accept someone if they do things only by half. And some hate everyone not of strong blood."

A part of Hermione was excited at Susan's knowledge of the topic of magic and the whole pureblood supremacy. And still, a part of her was slightly let down, since she was almost literally hit with the truth in her face – blood, in every way it was perceived, was and will be an essential part of their world and will always lead to disagreements. What a nice propaganda material, Hermione thought.

"You seem as if you've thought a lot about it" Hermione hasn't really taken Susan for a sociable person, and yet, Hermione was sure she was a good, maybe even a great conversationalist. But the picture of herself she presented the world around her would not make your think so. She always sat quietly in a corner of what could be described as a living room, surrounded by parchment and working hard on some Arithmancy homework she couldn't just grasp yet. Sometimes she would ask her for help but that was it.

"I wouldn't say it like that… We have always discussed such things with my aunt and I suppose some, well, I should really say all of her views – my _family's_ views, were passed onto me"

Hermione heard the slight stress Susan put on the word family and just then, she could swear she saw a spark in her eyes, a deeper power wanting to make its way to the surface. Although Susan did spend some time with her aunt, she didn't get to know her parents seeing as both of them (and the rest of her family bar her aunt) were hunted and killed off during the first wizarding war.

"Such as?" Hermione bid her to continue, knowing that they weren't speaking about their societal believes any more.

"Dedication. Fairness. And above all, loyalty" there was a distinct pause in-between each word, making them feel much more powerful than just some personality traits. "Our family, the Bones family does not exist anymore. So, my loyalty now, lies with you" Hermione looked at her incredulously after hearing her last words (and at the same time disregarded all that Susan said about where her loyalties lie…). Susan was a _Bones_ and she was sitting right in front of her (certainly, there could be chance of her being only a product of her imagination but she sincerely doubted that). She existed, therefore the Bones family existed.

Her stream of though was interrupted by the girl in question herself "I know what you are thinking, and unfortunately for the situation at hand, you cannot understand it…" As much as that statement offended Hermione and her slightly know-it-all tendencies to put it mildly, she was aware that there were still many things she did not know about. So instead of huffing like an offended child without manners, she took one deep breath to calm her bubbling anger and bid Susan to 'please explain'.

"You may come from one of the oldest wizarding families in the whole world-". In that moment, Hermione was suddenly struck by how little she actually knew about her family. Moreover, she also realised how vain she had been all summer, willowing in her grief, she should be ashamed. And actually, she was.

"But you have grown up like a muggle"

There must have been a sliver of resentment in Hermione's eyes at being confronted with that fact again, and in a not much different way than Malfoy did (though there certainly was no harassment spewing from Susan's mouth) that Susan felt the need to justify her mentioning that particular detail of Hermione's life.

"I have absolutely no intention of bringing the prejudice against muggles into this" she almost cried out, rather earnestly.

"I'm not saying you do…" Hermione replied, her voice soft, already knowing which one of her 'failings' was Susan going to mention in a matter of seconds.

"You have grown up surrounded by muggle culture, but I have grown up mostly with my aunt, who taught me early on what it meant – means to be a Bones. You may know that I am the last of the name Bones, but what you do not know is that I, as a female, cannot truly hold that name since there are no male members of our family left."

"Why?" Hermione couldn't help but ask, a slight frown on her face. She was surprisingly not angry at the obvious sexism that was taking place. The only thing she truly wished for was to understand Susan's situation.

"Our family's magic was held by the men in our family. Every family has their own – rules, I suppose we could call it rules, which form the magic in their family. In our family, it has _always _been that men were needed to sustain our magic. Actually, that's why my father had so many brothers. An insurance policy you could say. But this, our, secret got to You-Know-Who and he killed them all. A slaughter." Her voice was steady as she talked about the many deaths in her family. She did have time to come to terms with it, but still, there was this vengeful gleam in her eyes as she talked about the events that formed her life. Revenge, Hermione could easily say, was what Susan craved above all else.

"And for almost twenty years, there has been no male with the Bones' name." Susan concluded sadly.

"But – but if you had a child – a boy –"Hermione stated her hypothesis out loud but Susan interrupted her yet again: "It does not matter. Our family has been without a wizard with the Bones name for so long that it is unsalvageable. These things happen Hermione, families die and then become new ones. The Bones name will no longer be, but our magic, at least a part of it will be carried on and that is what was, _is_ so important to my aunt and me." Susan explained in almost one breath.

Only then did Hermione fully understand what it meant when the Goblins, and in a way also the Black council told her about one family becoming another. They were so important, that even though their family name disappeared, they did continue their line. "I may understand that. But – your family is one of the oldest – and my family too, and yet, my children will carry both the Black and Arcey name!" It horrified Hermione to talk about her possible family right now, when there was a war going on and her love was stuck somewhere in-between realities (or so she hoped and thought). Nevertheless, for arguments sake, she felt the need to mention it.

It infuriated her slightly, with how much patience Susan answered her again. It seemed that the girl sitting opposite to her had truly been a right fit for Hufflepuff – overflowing with patience and dedication to the topic on hand. "Hermione," (why did she always have to start with her name, Hermione wondered) "your family, the Arcey family and in a way also the Blacks – you _are_ the oldest there is. And as I've said earlier, each family works in a different way, abides to different laws and customs. If you wish your children to be called Moons, they will be and no one will bat an eye. But you will not do that as well as I will not give my children the surname Bones. Tradition Hermione… Though I should also say that, which for the Blacks and Arceys may seem as tradition, looks like an oddity to us and so on…"

Hermione conceded to the fact that indeed, there were many things she did not understand. Complaining that there were no books on this subject would be pointless since she actually did not look for them in her newfound libraries. Yet.

"I think- I think we should talk about the Quintet or well, whatever it is now" Hermione mentioned one of the many topics they needed to discuss, and when better than now.

"Well, from what my aunt told me about it, it is non-existent" Susan stated without any scruples, though at Hermione's raised brow – what did she mean by that, Hermione seemed like wanting to ask without actually doing so – she elaborated her _verdict _a bit. "Well, there were contracts between the families that needed to be sign every time someone there was a new Head. And since all of them, who signed it the last time, are long dead now, there is no Quintet to speak about of. Their blood was on the parchment and there is no blood in them now. - Forgive me for being so crude but that is the explanation my aunt had used." Susan added as an afterthought.

Dear Merlin, Hermione thought. But strangely, not because of Susan's explanation but _vainly, _she despaired over her logical skills. 'Where have they gone to?' she asked herself. Thinking, that was her modus operandi and now she seems to have lost it. Before the summer, things wouldn't have to be spelled out for her like this and she would still understand them. Her brain seemed to have stunted, she thought with a frown.

This depressive line of thought was disrupted as Susan began to talk. When had she become so talkative, Hermione couldn't but ask herself as she listened to the quite lovely Hufflepuff. "There is not much I can tell you beside that, my aunt thought it impossible to achieve what has once been and the tales that she had told me about the power of the Quintet, Septet and Quartet seem even to me a bit farfetched. But it has never been _our_ task to judge."


	34. One out of Three

_I'm truly sorry that it has taken me so long to update. There are many reasons to it but I will not bother you with that. There was one thing I wanted to share with you though. _

_This story seems to be becoming my life's work. I'm already more than two years into writing it and am in no way finished. It does not bother me but it may bother you. I hope, however, that you will forgive me the time it will take me to finish it. _

_I thank you all very much for your lovely reviews and comments and I am looking forward to reading some new again. _

_Love, _

_Your author_

* * *

_"It has never been our task to judge."_

Hermine mulled over that last sentence. She didn't know much about anything right now. Her whole summer left her thoughts jumbled up and not exactly in the order she was used to. But maybe that was exactly what she needed right in that moment.

"What was your task, then?" Hermione asked, falling prey to her sometimes too perceptible Gryffindor tendencies that made her blurt things out without thinking.

"Well, we were counsellors, I suppose. We were the mirror everybody needs sometimes. From what my aunt told me, not that willingly and with much conviction mind you, the Blacks and the Arceys were the ones with the most political power and all that. However, sometimes even so old families needed to be, eh – "

"Reined in?" Hermione supplied sarcastically.

"Yes," Susan continued "I suppose reined in would be right way to put it. The other families gave them suggestions on practically everything and I think, to make the whole arrangement work without much fighting, the two leading families minded these suggestions"

Neither one of them spoke for some time after that. Susan was waiting for Hermione's reaction, fearing that it might go both ways – good or bad, and Hermione, Hermione was thinking.

There hadn't been much thinking on her side during the summer and today's morning conclusion has already confirmed for her that she wasted too much time indeed. True, she still had the time-turner but that would more likely tire her then contribute to any ground-breaking decision she so desperately needed.

In other words, what Susan was currently offering to her (if she was not mistaken, which could be the case since she had not used her deducing skills in such a long time), she was offering help to her. But not out of pity or any other too emotional sentiment but rather out of loyalty and dare she think it also out of need for revenge. There was just one thing the still paranoid Hermione thought would hinder such an interesting cooperation between the two witches and that being the fact that Hermione was too afraid to trust the Hufflepuff girl. True, she was a Hufflepuff, meaning she should have some loyal quality to her. But what Hermione was aiming for was the total destruction of order as it was known to their society and there, she didn't see room for any hesitance.

"Susan, I suppose these things you say may have all been true in the past. Unwavering trust and allegiance. You owe me for taking you in for the summer" Hermione stated coldly, staring at the younger girl, looking for any sign of hesitance or displeasure. Finding none, she continued "I would hate for you to say what you have said only out of courtesy. You have been witness to a rather unpleasant exchange of opinions between me and young Mr. Malfoy. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable or try to awaken in you some sense of senseless gratitude. But I find myself in a difficult position. You know too much right now, about me, about the Malfoy family. So this leaves me with two options of which one of them you will eventually have to choose. Either I obliviate our few conversations and the encounter with the Malfoy family, which I would be rather saddened to do. Then there is the second option. I can explain my plan to you, about the Dark Lord, about Harry Potter and our whole society. And in the end, you would take an Unbreakable Vow that would prevent you from divulging any of _our _secrets to people that do not need to know about them." Hermione was not entirely convinced that showing her hand was a good idea. However, she was selfish enough to put Susan in such a position, hoping that ultimately, the other girl would choose the second.

Hermione could clearly see that Susan was struggling with what to say next. And indeed, she was. Susan's mind was in complete turmoil. On one hand, she was constantly repeating to herself that were she to choose to be in a way at Hermione's beck and call, she would betray her promise to her aunt to never take an Unbreakable Vow. On the other hand, she was sick of letting others decide for her. Letting herself work with Hermione, she would get the chance to decide over her future, fight for it and try her hardest to make it the best future possible. What, in her naivety, she failed to realise was that Hermione had already chosen for her, she just did not realise it and the chances were she never would. Her aunt might have taught her how to speak not to offend. She was just too young and inexperienced in the ways of manipulation and mind-tricks to see it directed at her.

"Could you perhaps explain more about your plan?" Susan asked tentatively and in that moment Hermione realised, she had her already. 'Sue me…' she thought as she smiled her rare smile since she truly was happy the girl has decided the way she did. And even though Hermione didn't realise it right then, her intricate thinking was getting back to her.

"The plan… I will have to disappoint you since I have not finished it yet. There are some steps though, that have I have already gone through. There is a Black council, made out of portraits believe it or not and they had made some suggestions. The first one was to get in touch with you and offer you some place to stay" Hermione said honestly and was genuinely surprised by the gentle smile on Susan's face. She was awaiting indignation. Maybe some remarks of outrage. "Why are you smiling like that?" Hermione asked her outright, showing her confusion.

"Well, you are starting to be a bit sneaky. And I did tell you earlier that I appreciate it very much, all that you have done for me…" Susan explained.

Hermione, trying very hard to not be embarrassed at the expressing of thankfulness went on with her 'conspiratorial' plans. "Eh, well, back to the plan. The next order of business is to get my family together. My mother was a Black and so is Draco Malfoy's, which makes him my family. Narcissa Malfoy is a Black by blood so that makes her my responsibility." She paused for a bit in her narrative and Susan used this opportunity to ask her the many questions she already had.

"What about the other Blacks?"

"I did have to read the many genealogy books my aunt had at home, she thought it was necessary to know who you are talking to…" she supplied as a way of explanation.

"Well, Andromeda Tonks is currently living much outside of our magical world. Though we did meet, but I think I won't want to drag her into what is surely going to become one huge chaos… She does have good insight so I suppose she will be a good adviser on issues difficult to resolve." Hermione tried to explain as much as possible. At the same time, however, the plan she was talking about was creating itself in her head so she talked less then fluently.

"And what about the third sister?" Susan realised only too late that this questions was one huge no go. Maybe it was the way Hermione suddenly clenched her jaw or the coldness that filled the room all of a sudden.

On the other side of the table, Hermione was having a hard time keeping it together. As a rule, she pretended that the witch named Bellatrix Lestrange didn't exist, and if she did make her way into her dreams, she was just a nameless bitch that deserved the darkest of the darkest curses cast upon her. Nevertheless, this didn't change the fact that she needed to answer Susan somehow and she wasn't exactly sure how. Her insides were currently bathed in the cruellest combination of rage, desperation and hopelessness. Her brain waged war against these emotions, telling her not to waste such precious feelings over something she knew she had no power over. Gulping, she took a deep breath and to reassure herself, she took her wand into her hands, having the idea that perhaps, it would calm or ground her somehow.

"If I could have it my way, I would chain her somewhere in the dungeons of the Black castle, let her starve, perhaps indulge myself in cursing her here and there, I could even get myself a Dementor to torment her with, weren't I of the opinion that they don't work on her anymore…" Hermione trailed of in planning her revenge. She could have spared Susan such a vivid explanation, however, she wanted to show the Hufflepuff that it won't all be a pleasurable walk in the park. Even though she was convinced there was no way Susan would actually refuse to work with her, she couldn't help herself in pushing the poor girl towards the edge of doubt.

She would succeed hadn't Susan already seen her at her most frightening time. As Susan listened to the various ways Hermione intended to drive Bellatrix Lestrange more insane and mentally damaged than she already was, she continuously had to remind herself that even this dangerous and slightly unhinged side of Hermione was still a part of her. Her memory of seeing a terrified Draco Malfoy played before her eyes. Susan was convinced that wasn't even a sliver of what the witch before her was truly capable of. Did that bother her? Perhaps it should, and it would have were her aunt still alive and she would be still sweetly ignorant about all the bad that was going on in their world. But she was not. And so the only way to go on was to try and somehow try to keep Hermione from going completely crazy on her.

In that moment, it became a lifelong mission for Susan to be at Hermione's side and help her journey towards whichever goal she had set out for herself.

"You're not running out of here, screaming for your life. Why is that exactly?" Hermione enquired, cocking her head to a side, a trait of her Animagus form showing.

"Well, you're not exactly planning **my** murder, are you..?" Susan stated, wanting to keep her sudden decision to herself.

"True, but somewhere in the future, I might be" and that did frighten Susan a bit. "You are scared of me now" Hermione added after a bit of silence, only detachedly stating the fact. There wasn't much she was able to do about such instinctual reactions. To an extent, she even welcomed such a response since it would keep Susan at her toes. Then again, did she want her friend to be afraid of her (she had to internally cringe at the strangeness of the thought of having a true friend)?

"There is one last person that would be welcomed into our merry band of rebels and that is Neville Longbottom. His mother came from one of the original families and that alone would give him the right to know what we are about to undertake. Nevertheless, with a little bit of nudging he would be exactly what we need him to be, if he isn't that already" What exactly Hermione expected him to be she didn't say out loud. She trusted him and he proved that he also cared enough about what she said and had it in him to stand against what has been practically beaten inside his head for all of his life. What more did he have hidden remained to be seen in the future.

This time, Hermione didn't let Susan ask her anything and went right on. "Draco, you, Neville and I. If all goes according to my plan, we four would put an end to the decline of our society and start a true revolution." Hermione voiced her dream.

Inwardly, Susan smiled at the fact that Hermione, the cold and fact only Hermione could also be a dreamer. There were so many confliction character traits to the Gryffindor that she sometimes failed to keep up. But outwardly, she frowned. What about You-Know-Who? Did she plan on striking some kind of a deal with him? From what she had seen and heard of her, she realised that it may very well be a possibility. She would strongly advise her against it but in the end, what power did she have at her disposal that would change the witch's mind.

Returning from the clouds, Hermione started to talk again "But before all of that, we will have to deal with the Dark Lord?"

"Why do _you_ call him Dark Lord?" Susan wasn't exactly sure why Hermione couldn't stick to the common way of calling that, that evil being.

"Because it will confuse him and makes me interesting. To some it may be egoistical, but calling him the Dark Lord doesn't exactly label me in any way. Only makes me of interest in his eyes. Imagine he gets a whiff of me, which he eventually will. An orphan girl, previously making a muggleborn out of her, which she still might be and she calls him by his favourite moniker that only his precious Deatheaters use – the Dark Lord."

"Isn't it perhaps too dangerous?" Susan enquired worriedly.

"Well, living right now is not exactly safe is it? And this is better than outright shouting out 'hey kitty, kitty, come here, just a swift Avada, you won't feel a thing…' "Hermione quirked her brow at her as if daring her to argue with her some more.

Oh boy, Susan thought to herself, she does not like when someone's disagreeing with her methods.

"What are your plans considering him?" Susan was indeed curious. Everyone on the side against Voldemort and not exactly in the mood for the rubbish-spouting Ministry was waiting for Dumbledore to make the first move. But it seemed that Hermione had plans of her own, and Susan would be very surprised if they involved their wise Headmaster.

"The first thing you should know that he is for all intents and purposes immortal, and I mean truly immortal with the ability to create new body upon new body if he ever needed to. He had created Horcruxes, which, simply said, are small parts of his soul forced into some obscure objects he fancied at the time" Hermione tried to explain laically.

"How does one make such an object?" Susan's questions were always to the point and Hermione liked that about her. It assured her that she would look at the whole picture and not bother with beating around the bush. Even though Susan might deserve to know about all the magic that went into creating such an object, Hermione wasn't exactly sure it was the time to confront Susan with all her ideas and opinions on magic since she would do exactly that were she to delve into explaining what a Horcrux was and how exactly it was made and how it worked. And so with a clear shaking of her head, she subtly said to Susan that now was not the time to bother with such things.

"I have one Horcrux that needs to be destroyed before we go to Hogwarts. I will need your help with that, possibly even this afternoon. To find the rest I will need to analyse the information I already have" Hermione said as a matter of fact.

Susan couldn't believe her ears and wasn't exactly sure how to wrap her head around the whole matter. They were against an immortal wizard, with some anchors that kept him on this plane of the living scattered only Merlin knows where and somehow, Hermione thought her research was the Holy Grail of Morgana when it comes to playing hide and seek with these objects. A strange girl, Susan settled on thinking.

"After we find and destroy all of the objects, we will need to wait for Harry to confront him and kill him once and for all. I fear that since the Dark Lord already set the whole thing in motion, we can't tempt fate in trying to take Harry's task from him."

"What things do you mean Hermione?" Susan was certain that Hermione was leaving some major fact out and this time she would not be satisfied with a mute shaking of the head.

"Well, the reason the Dark Lord even went after the Potters was a prophecy that stated that an infant had all the power to destroy him. And so the arrogant idiot, yes, idiot, had to go after them and kill them. The thing is, he must have got it jumbled up and did not realise that through reacting to the prophecy, he made it true. He could have ignored it, but he didn't. And now, Harry is the only one who is allowed to kill him."

"Allowed?" Susan frowned at Hermione's choice of words.

"I have a theory, that there is a bond between the two wizards, making it so that they are impervious to harm from anyone apart from the both of them. So it really is so that Harry is the only one that can vanquish him, as the Prophecy states." Hermione tried to explain and she let Susan think for a bit.

In the end, it was Susan who was the first one to talk again. "So if I got it right, first you want to get the four of us together to help you plot and take down You-Know-Who, then somehow turn over the whole of our society?"

"Yes, that would be about it" Hermione agreed with Susan's take on things. She did not however, indulge the other witch in the information that somewhere in between she would be begging the fate to bring her Sirius back or doing research on how to stay sane long enough to beg for him.

"And what exactly would you expect from me in all of this?" Susan asked her, wanting to have a clear idea about what she would be getting herself into.

If she were completely honest with herself, Hermione would clearly see that it was her fear of being rejected that led her to answer that was soon to follow after Susan's question. "Your role in all of this will be what you will make it. I expect from you that you will advise me on all things that will help me blend into our society and make me, I don't know how to say this any better than unattainable. I need there to be a space between me and all the other wizards and witches. An air of indifference, I really have no idea as of now. There are things about our society that you know better than I. I expect your help there. And after that? We will see… I still need to deal with Malfoy and Neville. Only then will I truly know what your part will be in all of this. Is that enough for you to go on?"

Susan nodded but didn't say anything more. It was clear to her that Hermione held her cards close to her chest. It saddened her to realise that there were many things the witch won't tell her and Susan was prepared not to ask or make an unnecessary scene just to know them. It would make her self-appointed task much more difficult. She could only hope that one of the boys would break through her strong armour.

Nevertheless, with the task she _had_ appointed her with, that is with making her a traditional witch. She could read between the lines well enough to know that she could say that Hermione did not want to become like all the purebloods that lived nowadays. However, she still wanted to appeal to these people so they would take her seriously. So when Hermione talked about traditional she had the olde-days in mind and Susan did know how to give her advice on that.

Sighing, she stopped debating with herself. She had already met her decision long time ago. There was only one question left for her to ask.

"When will I take the Unbreakable Vow?"

* * *

Susan was slightly lost in the magic that had been done upon her in the last hour. The Unbreakable Vow she had taken left her hand tingling rather unpleasantly and she wondered how exactly it was possible for Hermione to both administer the Vow and take it at the same time. She was not humble enough to not think that she was smart, but it seemed that some magic was truly beyond her.

With a bit of dismay, she realised that her life was in Hermione's hands, quite literally and she couldn't do a thing about it.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Please review and ask any questions :) I will answer them right away :)


End file.
